


When Things Cannot Possibly Get Worse, They Will

by EvilOtter



Series: Time Tumbles [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 59,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilOtter/pseuds/EvilOtter
Summary: It is time for the annual Hunger Games, but haven't we done this before?
Series: Time Tumbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555012
Comments: 78
Kudos: 1





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> After the defeat of the defeat of President Coriolanus Snow and the forces of the Capitol hastily deleted files were located in the computers of the regime. What these computers hinted to was akin to inhuman as well as terrifying. As bad as these files were they were nothing compared to what was found in an underground complex that was responsible for the development of new Muttations for the yearly Hunger Games.
> 
> Many of those who went into this complex left it highly disturbed and the question of what to do with what had been found presented a moral dilemma to the new government of Panem.
> 
> This is one of those stories.

My nightmare and its visions continues to haunt me as I eat what breakfast I have and bathe in rather tepid water. My everyday dress waits for me and, not for the first time, I wish that it was not so threadbare. At least I have barely passable underwear to preserve my fourteen year old modesty from the men and boys in the crowd.

I climb out of my bathwater and dry myself as best I can while also trying to dodge the rain water that is passing through the battered remains of the roof above me.

There is no one to comfort me as I prepare to face the day that is ahead of me or what is coming. Today, for the third time in my life I face the annual reaping and the possibility of actually having to endure what my nightmare had been about.

Just as I am sliding my feet into shoes that were worn out long ago a pounding nearly rattles the door into my home. I open it to find a neighbor waiting.

“Jessa, you need to hurry! The Peacekeepers are starting to look for stragglers and those who are trying to hide. They will be here soon.”

I quietly thank this neighbor, who has been nearly my mother since mine passed away from the fever. While I thank her, however, I wonder about her motives for concern today. She has a daughter whose name might be drawn during the proceedings of the reaping. It is almost fairly obvious that she is hoping that one more name in the bowl that Melli Searson will draw from will spare her child.

Not that I can blame her for hoping that she does not have to hear her daughter’s name announced today.

Actually, if she had not alerted me to the approach of the Peacekeepers my chance of being selected to compete in the games would have increased to almost certain.

I step out of my home onto the front porch. A few more steps and I am out from under the pitiful, almost collapsing remains of its roof.

The downpour makes me gasp as cold water from the heavens drenches me to the skin almost immediately. My attempts at drying after my makeshift bath are rendered futile and I find myself wondering why I had even gone to the trouble of trying.

A glance to my right makes me slow as we walk past the graveyard where my mother rests. I begin to question whether or not what I had learned in my dreams was true.

Was Arniss Mitt truly my father?

Arniss Mitt, the only tribute from our district to ever win the Hunger Games. In another district, especially Districts One, Two and even Three, victors were plentiful and highly thought of. Arniss, on the other hand, is not respectable in any way, shape or form, and all know why!

He is a drunkard, living day to day in a haze brought about by the crude whiskey made from rejected grain. The alcohol is illegal but even the Peacekeepers partake of it and tend to look the other way as long as they get a share.

An intoxicated Peacekeeper is a happy Peacekeeper.

“I will be back soon, Mama,” I whisper as I pass the fence and can see her marker. It was not much of a marker but it was the best that an unskilled and grieving child could create given what she had to work with.

“I love you and miss you.”

The crowd around and behind me does not allow me to dawdle. Everyone has to be in the square in time for the reaping whether they are eligible or not.

As we round a bend in the road I see the gathering before me and I slowly take my place in line to wait to be recorded.

Blood is spilled before the Games even start.

When I arrive at the front of the line there is no chance to avoid the inevitable. I hold out my hand to have it seized and then I wince as the needle pricks my finger. A moment later my blood is on the page of the register book next to my name, age and gender.

**Jessa Peaston**

**Female**

**14 y/o**

As I walk away I realize that, should I be chosen as a tribute and die, my epitaph will not be much longer than this. There will not be a marker for me save the simple one that dead tributes had placed over their graves. Very soon District Nine will be preparing to more spaces for dead tributes.

My likely future stated in a nutshell.

I make my way to the space reserved for the girls who are eligible to be chosen for this “honor”. The smell of fear is rampant and this stench permeates all of us. Somewhere in the crowd I hear the sound of someone vomiting and can see other potential tributes giving this unfortunate some space. At least they can avoid the indignity of someone throwing up on them. It would not do me any good to throw up, I have very little in my stomach to lose.

Finally a hush falls over the crowd as Melli Searson ascends the stairs to stand before the Justice Hall on a stage normally reserved for other duties. She stands silently as she surveys those of us assembled before her.

A shepherd examining her lambs gathered for slaughter.

As she looks us over, her manufactured smile never wavering, the traditional presentation begins on the large screens that have been erected for this occasion. They will stand here during the whole of these annual games to bear witness to what is about to happen.

President Snow’s voice gives us the final line of the thing after we have watched deaths from the past replayed in all of their graphic magnificence. We in the districts normally shudder at the blood-letting while we understand that in the Capitol it is looked forward to and even cheered.

The children of those in the Capitol look on happily while the children of those in the districts bleed and die. Those in the Capitol had become so dulled by the deaths that the gore and obvious pain have no effect on them.

“May the odds be ever in your favor!”

This final line, almost roared by Snow and whispered by an almost reverent Melli, resonates within the beings of those waiting for the selection.

Two tables, each holding a large glass ball that contains slips of paper with names written on them, wait patiently. They have both seen these proceedings many times before and will no doubt see them many more.

“Well, let us get started,” Melli nearly purrs as she steps to the table which holds the fall containing the names of the girls. Not for the first time do I wish that I had not been forced to take the tesserae in an effort to save Mama’s life. All that this will do now is to possibly bring a premature end to mine.

Girls in the assembly area, and their parents, hold their breaths as her frail appearing fingers dip into this ball to draw forth a name.

While we wait I consider volunteering like I had in my dreams, but the words will not come. As it turns out, I needn’t have worried. The piece of paper leaves the ball, is unfolded and it is almost as if Melli looks into my soul and her voice goes into slow motion as she reads the name before her.

“Jessa Peaston!”

There is the usual gasp as the name is read as well as relieved exhalations when parents realize that it was not their daughter whose name was read. I manage to stumble forward towards the stage before the advancing Peacekeepers can reach me to escort me. My weak legs get me up the stairs and I am soon standing next to Melli to face the people of District Nine.

Will these people see me survive to win the games? Or will they watch my brutal death? Only time will tell and I will not know much about it if the latter occurs.

I am still thinking about this possibility when I am interrupted by the male tribute stepping up onto the stage to take his place beside me. My heart, already beating a staccato in my chest, nearly ceases the beating that it has done since well before my birth. I cannot believe what I see as I realize who has been chosen for the boys.

Geoff Petar now occupies the space beside me and he is glaring at me with nearly open rage. Disbelief crowds into my thoughts as the reality of it all hits me like a hammer. With the exception of my not volunteering, everything else is just like it had been in my dreams.

Had my dreams somehow influenced what is now occurring? If they had done so, was Geoff aware of this? How else would things be different or would all be as it had been?

We are finally ushered into the building and I cannot help but hear the wailing of Geoff’s mother. A tribute from this district is considered dead almost immediately and no amount of tradable goods will overturn a selection once it has been made. Only someone volunteering to take a spot will release a tribute from their fate.

A familiar room appears before me and I settle into the very chair that I had occupied before. Its arm was unmarred and no loose thread presents itself for my use in desecrating the piece of furniture.

As in my dreams I can hear the wailing next door so I know that Geoff’s family is with him. I will have no visitors and so content myself with staring blankly at a large picture hanging on the wall. Clearly I will perform no vandalism during my time here. This is especially evident by the fact that a Peacekeeper is stationed outside the door. Committing willful damage will likely take me out of this room to receive a public flogging and I would go into the games with fairly recent memories of the punishment.

I am sitting in that chair, my head down as I consider my fate, waiting quietly and only look up when the door swings open on well-oiled hinges. Melli Searson, flanked by Peacekeepers, enters the room that I occupy. She pauses long enough to glance around the room, as though she expected to be attacked, before approaching me.

“Well,” she begins, “I see that you have made yourself comfortable.”

I see the irritated look in her eyes and realize that she is more than a little bit perturbed with me. The rich material of the seat and back cushions has been greedily sucking in the rainwater that I had been drenched with.

“If you had possessed any manners, Miss Peaston,” she growls, “you would have taken a seat in one of _those_ chairs.”

My eyes, but not my body, follow the direction that her arm is indicating. Ancient and likely uncomfortable chairs sit in front of the desk.

“No thank you,” I reply, “I am quite comfortable in the one that I am in.”

“I see that you have no one with you to see you off,” she continues as she intentionally digs to cause me discomfort.

This irritates me, and she knows it. The fact that I am an orphan is well known. Even a Capitol drone such as she was would have easy access to this information and I know that her cruelty is intentional. But Mama had taught me something valuable.

Every bully is what he or she is because they need to make up for something that they lack. They do what they do to others to make themselves feel better.

Melli is not prepared for my response.

“I guess that you likely know exactly how I feel. A person like you lives from day to day without feeling anything or having anyone to care about them. Perhaps that is why you have the job that you do, you have no space left inside you to give any thought to what someone like me is going through.”

The sudden angry expression on her face tells me that my attack has struck where it was intended to. I smile up at her and she whirls on her heel to storm out of the room, nearly colliding with an unprepared Peacekeeper who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She openly snarls at him and then pushes past him to sweep out of the room. The Peacekeepers follow her from my presence and leave me to my solitude.

The sounds of the loud crying in the next room are beginning to annoy me. This situation that we are in cannot be changed by a simple bout of crying. It would take a volunteer, not very likely to happen, to release Geoff from his predicament.

I am taken by surprise when the weeping goes up several octaves and I can hear Geoff’s mother screaming.

“Please do not take him, please!”

There is the sound of a struggle and then a loud shout which had to have come from the throat of a Peacekeeper.

“Enough! If you keep interfering I will have all of you back out in the center of the square facing the lash. I cannot remember the last time that we had a woman out there but I would not pass up the chance for some entertainment!”

I shudder at the words and manage to calmly rise when the door to the room that I occupy swings open. Showing no sign of resistance, I walk placidly to the waiting Peacekeeper and fall into step beside him as we walk towards the waiting train platform.

We stop abruptly as there is a terrible commotion from within Geoff’s room. The door seems to explode outward, destroyed by the flailing form of a Peacekeeper.

I freeze when he rises and claws for the rifle that he has dropped. As he stands, Geoff’s father bursts from the room on the attack. The close proximity does not allow the rifle to get to the necessary attitude and the Peacekeeper undergoes another attack. Hands built like miniature boulders strike the officer down and are reaching for the weapon as the man roars his defiance.

“I will not let you murdering bastards take my son!”

He is just raising the gun when a loud roar, followed by two more, echoes in the corridor. Three bright splotches of red explode on the front of his shirt and I see his eyes roll back in his skull before he collapses backwards into a lifeless heap.

There is the shriek of an angered banshee and Geoff’s mother emerges from the room with the broken leg of a chair in her hand. She swings it hard and the afflicted Peacekeeper collapses yet again, this time for good.

Three shots blast forth out of the rifle next to me and I cower, all the while hearing someone screaming, as I try to stay out of the way. As Geoff’s mother collapses next to her husband I realize that I am the source of the panicked sounds. It finally quiets as they drag my male counterpart out of his room. He shrieks wildly at the sight of his lifeless parents and is dragged down the hall by two Peacekeepers.

I manage to stand, assisted by an uncharacteristically gentle Peacekeeper, before sidestepping the corpses and spreading pools of gore and walking meekly out of the building to climb aboard the train.

It will depart soon and I turn in time to see the dead bodies being removed. Something that I had seen in the corridor sticks with me as the train begins to glide away from the platform and it tells me what I must be certain to do.

The wild eyes of Geoff Petar as he beheld the dead bodies of his parents and the madness within them tell me that I must kill Geoff or die at his hands.

My resolve cemented I turn from the window and step into the lounge compartment.

Melli stands in the center of it and my breath pauses as I recognize who she is with.

Arniss Mitt, my father!


	2. Two

I cut a large path around him to find a chair in the corner of the room and then settle down into it, much to Melli’s displeasure. She returns to her conversation with Arniss and I see no sign of Geoff.

While I wait to be noticed I take the opportunity to gaze around the compartment at my surroundings. Never in my life have I ever seen such a place as this. I had believed that the office that I had occupied had been the best that could be offered, but that opulence paled in comparison with this chamber.

Everything, except for us, was identical to what I had seen in my dream, vision or whatever it had been. The living people were different, however.

Here I was, cowering in a chair, when in my dreams I had been almost surly. All that I wanted at this moment was to go home, crawl back into bed and try to forget all that I had seen or imagined.

The self-sure girl that had emerged as the “warrior goddess” was nowhere to be seen, and the adults in the room pay no attention to me. It is as if know that I am already dead and that there is no point in trying to cultivate a winner out of what they have to work with.

It is Arniss who breaks the silence directed at me as he leaves the conversation that he had been engaged in. I can see the relief on Melli’s face as she finally manages to escape the fetid stench emanating from his mouth. The sight of his brown teeth, stained by years of drinking the alcohol and the aroma of that liquid on his breath seems all too familiar to me. He sits down in the chair next to the one that I have claimed and then looks me over before speaking.

“Hello, Jessa,” he purrs as the cloud of his breath threatens to suffocate me.

“Arniss,” I manage to respond while trying not to gag.

“I guess that congratulations are in order. You got picked out of all of those girls for this.”

“I do not see the privilege in it. I mean, have I not just been picked to likely die in front of all of Panem? Is that what you are thinking that I should be congratulated on?”

His mouth widens in a smile as he nods and I shudder inwardly at the sight of the rotting nubs of his teeth. I watch with revulsion as he runs his tongue over those teeth and I wonder if he ever takes the time to consider what they look like to other people.

“Jessa, you have been given the chance to win the games for Nine. Not many people get the chance to do that and just think of what the district will receive if you win. The citizens of our district will have plenty of food for a year! You will get a nice house and plenty of food as well. Surely all of that is worth risking your life for.”

“And if I lose,” I counter, “all that I get is dead, a cheap wooden box and a flat rock with my name on it. The odds are not, and never will be, in my favor. I do not care what they say to the contrary.”

“Jessa, I think that you are looking at this all wrong,” he continues as he reaches out to touch my arm. “You have just as much a chance of winning this as anyone else.”

My arm, not ready to be touched by him, is jerked away as my eyes focus on him in a murderous glare. I am not ready now, nor do I expect to be any time soon, to divulge the contents of my dreams. They are still to raw and new to be exposed. There is also the fact that I fear the outcome. If my dream was correct I am facing my father but if they are wrong he may refuse to help me in any way.

I am about to respond to the surprised look on his face when a still sobbing Geoff enters the compartment. It was not like I could blame him for being distraught, his parents had both just been killed by the Peacekeepers before his eyes. This was probably, just like when my mother had died in front of me, something that he would see over and over again for the rest of his life.

He more or less collapses into a chair to continue sobbing and, although I do feel sorry for him, it is not long before the sound begins to get onto my nerves.

Melli does her best to ignore him as she makes a wide berth around the chair that he occupies. Her largest reaction is one of shock and almost open disgust as he curls up in the chair with his booted feet on the upholstery.

“You do know that you are going to damage the fabric with your boots,” she admonishes. “The Capitol spends a great deal to provide this luxurious transport for you and the very least that you could do is to respect it by keeping your feet out of the chair. They are not the cleanest, you know!”

Geoff looks up at her with a stricken expression on his face and I almost feel sorry for him, almost. It occurs to me that, even though we have just seen both of his parents die before our eyes, he cannot be counted out as a formidable opponent. Quite the opposite, the loss could make him into a terrible warrior with no fear of his own death. I have seen this before when watching the games from the comparative safety of the district, a tribute with nothing to lose annihilating opponent after opponent regardless of injury or the odds against him. The deaths of both of his parents may have made him ready to die as long as he can take others with him.

My gaze leaves him as I rise and brush past Arniss to leave the compartment. There is nothing that any of them possess that makes me desire their company. I will have to endure it when I emerge to eat but until then all that I want is solitude. It does not take me long to find my private compartment and I enter cautiously to find a bedroom like I have never even imagined.

Anything and everything that I could desire has been crammed into the space and I sigh at the irony. I am one of the chosen and condemned but I am being hustled to my death in total luxury. A tray of exotic looking fruit sits waiting for me and I indulge in one of them only to gag on the almost obscene sweetness.

Only a glass of water assists me in managing to swallow the morsel and I gulp it greedily before filling it from a nearby pitcher to down it again. I turn my back on the tray and settle down onto the bed where I am pleasantly surprised to feel it conform to the shape of my body.

Taking a chance, I lounge back on it and almost immediately feel cocooned in warmth. The feeling is almost intoxicating as I allow myself to be comforted.

As I relax on the bed I fight the urge to go to sleep. There is an ordeal ahead of me and I do not have the luxury of complacence. That is the one luxury that I am being denied and I would trade all of what surrounds me for a bit of it. I need to be prepared to deal with everything that is thrown at me.

First, and totally terrifying, is the Parade of Tributes. It is a first chance to make an impression on the audience and, therefore, potential sponsors. It is because of this that I must endure contact with Arniss. He survived his games and knows what to expect, which I do not. He has an idea about how to woo viewers and make them see him favorably, something that I have no experience in.

I can also only hope that the Capitol stylists can make something of me as they did in my dream or nightmare, which ever it was. Would Pietor be there to work his magic or would it be someone much less talented? Would we be adorned in costumes that made us appear weak and a laughable threat? Was there any possibility that the “warrior goddess” would rise again as she had done before? All that I can do is hope for a miracle that will bring me support once I am in the arena.

Fighting off the urge to sleep, I rise from the bed and make my way back to the compartment where I had last seen Arniss. I need to learn what he knows and now is not the time to be haughty and aloof from my mentor.

He is seated at a table with a tumbler in his hand when I enter. Obviously he has found a bottle which contains something that is to his liking because the vessel before him is substantially depleted.

Geoff is nowhere to be seen and Melli is just as absent.

_‘Probably regluing that horrible smile to her face,’_ I think.

Arniss turns, alerted to my presence, as I approach. He takes another drink as I settle down into a seat across the table from him and then finally speaks.

“So, you have decided to come to pick my brains for hints on how to survive,” he remarks. “What happened to the girl who did not give a damn about what I have to say?”

I shrug my shoulders but do not reply as I watch him drain the tumbler.

“I want to survive to win, Arniss. What do I have to do to get to that point? You are here to help us so why not do it?”

He sets the tumbler down and then smiles crookedly before answering.

“Well, Miss High and Mighty Peaston has come to beg low life Mitt to tell her how to keep her skin in one piece. That must be a blow to your ego, Jessa, having to come to me of all people for help. This must be a humbling experience for you.”

Swallowing hard and biting my tongue to hold back the instinctive response that I trying to escape my mouth I listen to him before answering.

“Arniss, I know that I have not always been the kindest to you and, at times, have said things about you that I should not have but I need your help. I do not think that I have a chance without you and I would really like to start fresh, if that is possible.”

He smiles again, giving me the impression of a cat that has finally managed to corner an elusive rodent. Somehow, although there will be no bloodshed, I feel that what is coming will be just as painful and unpleasant.

“Fine,” he announces as he slaps his hand down onto the surface of the table and regards me with a sarcastic smile. “I will help you. Not because I necessarily like you or care if you live or die, but because if you do manage to win part of the food that the district will get is sugar. It would help my brew a lot to have more than I already get and maybe I can stockpile enough to keep things good for a while.”

His motivation disgusts me but I remain quiet as he pours more amber liquid into the tumbler before speaking again.

“Jessa,” he begins as he looks at me cynically, “quite honestly I do not give you much of a chance. You have an arrogance about you that puts people off. We all know that your mother died, but you have played the helpless waif for far too long and everyone in District Nine is tired of it. There were probably sighs of relief when your name was picked.”

Anger boils in me as I watch him take a drink and I fight the urge to shove the tumbler down his throat.

To suggest that I have used Mama’s death to seek favor is repulsive, especially considering the way that I am forced to live. Someone who actively seeking sympathy would have far better circumstances than I have been forced to live with. Barring the small amounts of food that I had been given by sympathetic neighbors right after her death I have been eating as poorly as I had been while she lived.

“Are you saying that I have been living off of the generosity of others, Arniss? If you are, you are mistaken because no one has been giving me anything! There are a lot of nights that I go to bed hungry and only eat the bare minimum that I need to stay alive. If there is a cupboard of donated food in my home I wish that someone would show me where it is! I work just as hard as everyone else to get what I have and take the same chances with the Peacekeepers that they do, so do not give me the nonsense that you have. Perhaps,” I continue as my voice rises, “if you would put the bottle down and sober up once in a while you would see what I am talking about. You might also hear how much people laugh about you behind your back!”

He smiles at me again and I look at him curiously.

“That,” he responds calmly, “is what you needed, Jessa. It was about time that someone stoked the fire in you. You need confidence in yourself and you have just shown that you have it. If you can take what you just showed me to the parade and training you will have boosted your chances. Show the audience that fire, but also show them that you can be humble and you will get the attention of sponsors. I have seen you smile and they need to see it too, be likeable and charming when you need to be. The time for being fierce and ruthless will come all too soon.”

“Wave to the crowds, Jessa. Let them know that you see them, not just that you are looking at them but that you actually see them. Appear human, make them want to help you and they will. Being a dour statue will get you nothing but dead and then I do not get the sugar that I want!”

I try to frown at this last comment but find myself mirroring the smile that he wears before we both break out in laughter. Melli enters the compartment and, after we glance at her, our laughter increases in volume. She stares at us for a moment and then turns to stalk out of the room followed by the noise that we are generating.

“That,” Arniss announces after she has left, “is how to unnerve an opponent. They have no clue what you are thinking or planning and it gives you an advantage. Right now Melli is to determine what just happened and how to make sense of it.”

“Then,” I begin, “I have to laugh at someone when I am in the arena to keep them from killing me?”

Arniss gives me an exasperated look before responding.

“No, but you have to keep them guessing. Always try to do the unexpected to throw them off balance. If you can be unpredictable you have a fighting chance at surviving to win.”

Finally getting a grasp on what he is trying to tell me I relax in my chair while he talks strategy. I quickly lose track of time and am only alerted when dinner is served. As if by magic both Melli and Geoff appear, both of them looking at the two of us suspiciously, and settle down into chairs.

Geoff, finally done crying, shoots me a glare that tells me that there is no chance of us working as a team. There is murder in his eyes and, for some reason, I have been chosen as the victim. Is it because I was present when his parents died? Or is it simply because we shall soon be in the arena and he will have an opportunity to end my life without possibility of running afoul of the Peacekeepers? Either way he has already decided that I must die.

In that instant the Games become very immediate and real for me. I know that I can expect no quarter and thus can give none. Any show of unity that we project during the parade will be just that, show.

The only physical contact that Geoff wants is his hands locked around my throat until my life ends.

Dinner is nearly silent with only Arniss or Melli speaking. Geoff and I are too busy shooting glares at each other to speak.

I try to remain cognizant of the fact that soon we will reach the Capitol and all cameras will be on us. If we cannot appear as a cohesive pair the cracks will be very apparent and a weakness revealed. That weakness will very likely paint an early target on both of us and neither of us will survive for long.

We have just finished eating when it appears in the distance, the first views of the Capitol. I gasp as the understanding of what I am seeing hits me and I try once again to get past the irony of it all.

The Capitol is beautiful, perfect and pristine in appearance. But that beauty is a mask that hides the utter cruelty that dwells there. It is the blood of twenty-three children each year that keeps the Capitol what it is.

I watch the scene before me and manage to hide my loathing as Melli squeals and claps her hands in delight. For her this is home and an escape from the things that she is made to endure while in District Nine.

A perceptible slowing of the train allows the scenery flashing by to become more defined and we are considerably slowed when we see the first of the crowds that have gathered to try to get their first glimpse of two people that they will soon watch fight, and probably die, for their entertainment.

Rising from my seat, I join Melli near the window to the pleasure of the crowd which, at the sight of a tribute, goes wild. A literal sea of hands begins to wave at us and I manage a modest wave in return. Over the noise of the train I can hear their cheers at my actions and this encourages me to give them a more pronounced wave.

A presence at my side reveals the fact that Arniss has joined us in returning the attentions of the crowd. Geoff makes his appearance at the window just as we sweep out of the view of the cameras and crowd and he rounds on me savagely.

“So this is how you are going to play this, is it? You could have told me that we were near the crowds so that I could have been seen too! No! You stand do that I cannot see what is going on and I looked like a fool showing up just as we passed out of sight!”

My response to this is no less heated and it is fortunate that Arniss is between us. He uses his arms to keep us apart as I shout back.

“Maybe if you had not spent so much time crying and blaming people who had nothing to do with what happened you might have noticed where we were! You had just as much a chance as I did to get to the windows but you were busy feeling sorry for yourself and mad at the world. Do not blame me for what happened to your parents because, at this moment Geoff, I have no pity left for you!”

Mouths dropped open at this and, for the first time, I see respect in both Arniss’ and Melli’s eyes. Clearly I have shown them that I refuse to be pushed around or victimized further. Arniss knows my situation and I am quite certain that Melli does too. Certainly Geoff knows where I am coming from and what I am feeling.

Mama had been well thought of in Nine and certainly she had been respected. She had raised me from birth alone while also being a contributing force in our part of the district. Not many women in her position or even those with a husband could say the same. Mama had tried to instill this drive into me and I was grateful for it.

To have Geoff attack me in the way that he had was unacceptable and I certainly had no intentions of forgetting his hurtful words. As I thought about all of this, and waved to increasing crowds, we were finally hustled off of the train to be taken to the Remake Center. Of all of the things about me that they might change one thing would remain rock solid.

My desire to kill Geoff Petar.


	3. Three

The Remake Center was almost as I had imagined, or dreamt, it. Everywhere, it seemed, technicians were preparing to receive us. This was actually the first time that we actually got to see the tributes from the other districts and the sight of them, in some cases, made me feel a lot less confident that I could even survive, let alone win the Games.

Geoff and I are swiftly pulled aside while Melli and Arniss have not made the trip here. Modesty is not a consideration as we are stripped naked for our first washing. I lay quietly on a cold metal table while the technicians do their work, and they wash everywhere. Not a tiny amount of skin, regardless of location, avoids their attention and none of them notice the tear in my eye as I remember Mama was just as thorough when bathing a little girl who once again had managed to get incredibly dirty.

The mixture that they use produces enormous amounts of foam and I am forced to tightly close my mouth to avoid ingesting the suds. When they finally begin rinsing me off one woman, who I had the impression was in charge, steps closer to examine my naked body while the others wait.

Apparently they have done a good job because the others shift gears and begin the process of removing _every_ unwanted or unnecessary hair that might show. I gasp in pain as they rip the hairs out with strips of a sticky wax. Only a few times before in my life have I ever experienced anything like this pain and that was usually when Mama was tending to a childhood injury that her daughter had sustained with some sort of ointment. This usually hurt more than the injury and I always dreaded seeing her hand reaching for the bottle marked IODINE. No amount of pleading on my part prevented its application to damaged skin once she had decided that it was needed.

I clench my teeth as more hairs are forcibly removed from my leg. A glance at the technician reveals no emotion at causing this extreme discomfort. In fact, I have seen farmers skinning an animal killed in one of the fields use more care than I am receiving.

My arms are also being plucked raw and I shudder every time they apply more of the wax because I know what is coming next.

The only consolation that I can gather is the fact that Geoff is also receiving some of this treatment and he is not liking it one bit. I actually hear him as well as some of the other tributes, male and female, as they cry out in pain. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing me suffer I bite my lip during the removals. It was a trick that I had learned when being punished as a child.

Finally the torture concludes and once again I am deluged with water and suds, which brings a while new variety of pain as the soap contacts raw injuries. This second round of wash down concludes after a few minutes and I am quickly dried before being handed a robe.

That station finishes with me and I am hurried to the stylists and I shudder as Pietor emerges. He is nothing like I imagined as I only knew his name from the previous Games. He is a tall, rather sour looking man and he regards me like a butcher would the animal that he was about to dispatch. A shake of his head tells me that I do not impress him. My only consolation is when Geoff arrives and Pietor, seeing him for the first time, makes a swift comment.

“I think that I am going to cry!”

There was no doubt that he had hoped to have more to work with than what we provide. He sighs deeply with resignation to the seemly impossible task ahead and motions for us to follow him.

Geoff, ready to show me up, nearly bowls me over as he rushes forward. I ignore this and keep pace with both of them. Thoughts of the humiliating costumes of years past are obviously on all of our minds and this has me hoping for something at least similar to what we had in my dreams.

As it turned out I could not have been more surprised, and wrong.

There are no comical outfits covered with grain, but there are also no god and goddess-like apparel. For a moment I am terrified that we might actually be getting onto the chariot naked, it has happened in the past, to be paraded before cameras and thousands of spectators. That is until Pietor pulls aside a curtain to reveal almost regal looking robes. I bring my hand up to cover my mouth as I behold the exquisite costumes that we shall be wearing during the parade.

“There was no way that I wanted to be laughed at again,” he states bluntly. “Please do your best to not destroy the impression of dignity and nobility that these costumes are intended to represent. One mistake, one humiliating mistake,” he warns, “and you will not make it to the arena. I will kill you _myself_ and I will _enjoy_ doing it!”

I nod numbly as I approach the costume meant for me. The legends of the past about ancients who prayed to the gods for a successful crop have been brought back to magnificent life. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever thought that I would wear clothing that was so elegant.

Deep purple robes trimmed in gold and looped with braiding meant to represent golden grain wait for us. Head pieces modeled to resemble what the ancient priests and priestesses had worn crown the outfits while beautifully crafted sandals had been built for our feet. As in my dreams each of us will be equipped with a golden harvest scythe, with no true edge on it of course, to finish the illusion.

I have just managed to regain my breath when I am hustled away to begin being prepared. Now the true work begins as hair stylists compete with those applying makeup to my normally pale face. Everything is done at an almost feverish pace because we are working against a clock.

No doubt the massive crowd that always gathers for the parade is starting to find seats for the spectacle and the cameras are being readied. Massive screens are in place to give everyone close up views of the twenty four tributes who were selected for this year’s Games.

There is no room for error here, mistakes at this point would be disastrous and it is obvious by looking at a brooding Pietor that they will not be tolerated.

I manage to steal a glance at Geoff and it is very apparent that he is not appreciating the application of makeup. He makes rather hostile sounding noises as the stylists do what they need to and I look at Pietor to see him getting increasingly irritated at my counterpart. Sitting quietly and being cooperative keeps his attention from me and pleases the stylists. In what seems like no time at all I am transformed from a pale fourteen year old girl with almost unruly hair to a person who would be unrecognizable if she was transported back to District Nine to walk the streets.

The progress on me is such that two stylists leave my chair to join the group around Geoff. Movement to my right tells me that Pietor is joining me, muttering about Geoff as he does. Soon enough I am finished in the chair and led to the Costuming Room where once again my modesty is laid bare.

Worrying at this point is unfounded as I am soon being clothed in preparation for the costume. A black bodysuit covers me at first and then the stylists begin to drape me with my robes. I am nearly finished with this ordeal and am being helped with my headpiece when Geoff finally appears, naked. Only serious effort keeps me from bursting out in laughter at the sight of his recently plucked and makeup adorned nude body. A glance from him tells me that he knows what I am thinking and I turn away so that he cannot see the smirk that I wear.

I am lead out of costuming and to the finishing area where Pietor fusses around me correcting everything that he feels is necessary. One drawback to being finished so quickly is that I am forbidden from sitting down. That would create wrinkles in my costume and that cannot be permitted to happen. Another problem is that, while they ARE beautiful, the sandals are terribly uncomfortable and my feet are quickly aching.

“We have ten minutes before the chariots, people. Get a move on with him because I refuse to have us laughed at again. At least _she_ ,” he states as he indicates me, “was cooperative. She let us do what we needed to in order to get her ready on time!”

Another murderous glare from Geoff is sent my way at this statement.

At this point I am grateful that we are not equipped with actual edged weapons. Had we been, the Hunger Games for this year would likely have started early. We are led finally to our chariot and, for the first time, to our first views of the competition. Fear goes through me as I realize that every stylist on every team has gone all out to improve on their efforts of years past.

There will be no “that pair of tributes was intensely better than the others” this year. The spectators, both in the Capitol and those watching in the Districts, will be treated to exquisite costumes and well prepared tributes. This year will certainly stand out as one where all of the district tributes were memorable.

I climb onto the chariot mindful of the fact that very soon I shall be alone in close quarters with a person who hates me intensely. Only the fact that we will be on camera nearly every second will prevent unpleasant exchanges. We shall be forced to play nicely together, for now at least.

We wait while the chariots ahead of ours begin to move and barely hear Pietor’s parting instructions.

“Try to act like you like each other. There will be time for hatred later.”

We glance at him and then at each other before both of us assume a manufactured smile, not unlike the one that Melli assumes.

The chariot that we are in emerges into view of the spectators and already loud cheering intensifies. Somehow we have sparked interest from the crowd and it lifts the spirits of both of us which causes the smiles that we wear to become more genuine.

Our faces appear on the screens for all to see and I am astounded by our appearance. I do not see two teenagers from a farming district, I see people who could represent royalty. Geoff sees us as well on the screens and there is an immediate change in his demeanor. In a split second he goes from a defeated orphan to potential winner of the Games and in that same split second I fear him more.

The superbly trained team of horses pulls our chariot unerringly to the City Circle and now I see Snow’s mansion. There in the center of a wall is a balcony and seated on that balcony is President Coriolanus Snow.

Not even years of seeing him presiding over events like this have prepared me for this moment. He is seated causally while he and thousands of others watch the latest batch of twenty-four children arrive for review all the while knowing hat in a few days many of these innocents will be dead. He watches us as the chariots draw us forward to the point where he will pronounce a death sentence for twenty-three of us.

The chariot that I ride in with Geoff comes to a halt while the anthem plays. Only when the chariot for District Twelve comes to a stop does he rise to the podium and the music cease. We tributes, many nearing their deaths, look up at a man whose only connection to death is the blood of innocents that he kills by command.

Around us the crowd has ceased its roar as they adoringly await his words. Why would they not? Their children do not face the annual reaping or the possibility of probable death in a horrific manner for the televised amusement of others.

“Greetings and welcome to the Capitol! You, and I mean every one of you, selected tributes are here before this crowd as a reminder of the darkest days of Panem. A time when districts rose up against a benevolent capitol and neighbors fought neighbors.”

“Our great nation was torn by war as the ungrateful turned against their benefactors but the righteous prevailed in that struggle. Of course there was a cost, and that cost was the annihilation of District Thirteen. That district’s utter defeat showed the remainder of the revolutionaries the fallacy of their ways and peace ruled again.”

“But that enduring peace has a cost! You, the twenty-four tributes before us, and like the tributes before you are reminders of that cost. You shall soon leave this place to begin three days of training. At the end of that training you shall be taken to an arena to engage in mortal combat from which there can be only one survivor. The other twenty-three shall return to their home districts to be memorialized as reminders of the cost of betrayal.”

“We, the people of the Capitol and those in the districts who are watching now, salute all of you as you prepare for the contest. We salute you as you prepare to go forth to your possible death bravely.”

“May the odds be ever in your favor!”

These last words, a death sentence for most of us, causes the crowd to erupt into cheers. The chariots begin to move once again and we are seen making a return journey back to the starting point. Now, for the first time, I see the beginnings of dread and outright fear on some of the faces being shown on the screens.

We arrive at the staging area to be helped off of the chariots and to hand over the scythes. Pietor and the stylists hurry Geoff and I back to the Costuming Room where we remove the costumes and put on clothing that is waiting for us.

Somewhat of a uniform, it marks us as tributes as each has a number denoting our district sewn on a sleeve. We are losing our identities and becoming just objects to be prepared for the inevitable. We are like a toy being given to an irresponsible child knowing fully well that it will likely be broken.

We look each other over from a distance knowing that this part of the contest is now over and already we have started the competition that will kill many of us. Already the spectators, and the sponsors, are forming opinions about who they want to see win the Games.

Suddenly Melli and Arniss are there and we are being hustled to an area where we can talk privately.

“Congratulations,” Arniss says quickly, “you two made quite an early impression. We heard a number of people who are potential sponsors commenting about you and everything that they said was in your favor. For two people who were acting like you wanted to kill each other a short time ago you seemed pretty chummy to everyone that was watching.”

“Even a number of escorts for other districts were commenting on the fabulous couple that District Nine was going to send to the Games this year,” Melli chirped enthusiastically.

I look at Geoff fleetingly at this comment and he at me before the hostility returns with a vengeance.

“I hope that they are not counting on us to continue looking like we actually care for each other,” Geoff exclaims, “because I intend to kill her as soon as I can!”

“Not if you are dead before that,” I snarl. “I plan on making certain that you do not survive the first day. I want to be the one to show Panem what the inside of your throat looks like after I slit it!”

We are nearly to blows when Arniss and Melli step between us.

The elevator to our level makes several trips as I am escorted up first by Melli and Geoff follows with Arniss.

Dinner that night is very subdued with both Geoff and I being nearly as silent as our Avox servers. While we do not say much, our eyes are doing plenty of talking and the message is clear. We will not hold back in our efforts to kill each other.

I notice two Peacekeepers enter our living quarters and look at Arniss questioningly.

“Your threats downstairs were overheard and since tributes are not permitted to fight each other before the Games the Gamemakers sent them to be sure that you two behave yourselves.”

He pauses for a moment to let this sink in and then continues.

“Right now they could replace either one or both of you with no problem. All that you have done is to appear in the parade. Believe me, if they have to bring in replacements you do not want to know what they would do to the originals. It would be made a televised public spectacle that would not end well for you. Do yourselves a favor and play nicely together for now, there will be plenty of time to be nasty later. Save it for the arena unless you want it brought to a bloody end now.”

A swift look at the Peacekeepers tells me that what Arniss has said is fact. President Snow would have no qualms about ordering our executions after subjecting us to public floggings that would be broadcast to all of Panem.

I nod my understanding and then rise without speaking before walking towards the bedroom meant for me.

“Be sure to get some sleep, Jessa. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

I feel myself tense at Arniss’ words and quietly walk past the Peacekeeper that has taken up station outside my door. It opens for me and I enter the room silently. Only after the door whispers closed to I sob as I collapse onto the bed.

The Hunger Games are real for me now and I think about my dreams and what I have already experienced as I cry myself to sleep.


	4. Four

I have a hard time sleeping that night knowing that, in less than four days, several of the tributes that had been in the parade would be dead. There was the very real possibility that I could also be dead, maybe at the hands of Geoff.

Would my dreams come true? Would we be in the arena that I saw or something entirely different? Certainly some of what I had seen already had not, or would not come true. Geoff’s parents had not died in what I had dreamed, rather they had betrayed me and caused the deaths of Arniss as well as my daughter.

Our costumes for the parade and Pietor had also been very different. While the tributes has all been as I remembered, their personalities were quite altered.

Would Mama appear to me? Would I face the same encounters and dangers? Would I survive what was ahead or would my game end early with my death? Would it be my corpse sent back to District Nine to be buried under that simple marker to be lost among a large number of its kind?

When morning arrives I manage to get out of bed to make my way to a shower the likes of which I have seen only in my dreams. An exploratory push of a button which had been comfortable in my visions before has me nearly rocketing out of the stall as ice cold water douses me. Somehow managing to remain where I am I push a button below it and am rewarded with a very nice, warm stream that immediately soothes me.

The buttons take some exploring, which at times yielded almost intolerable results, until I find what I am searching for. I enjoy the shower that results and soon am stepping out to be air dried. A female Avox leads me to a mirror and somehow gets me to understand what I need to do.

I am not surprised when, after placing my hand into a box placed on the dressing table, my hair is dried and falls nearly into place. All that I have to do is to withdraw my arm and use a brush to get my tresses to my liking.

Rising from where I am seated I dress quickly in the training uniform and then leave the room. The Peacekeeper does not react to my passing and I arrive at the table where an incredible breakfast is waiting. The others have not arrived yet and I hurry to fill my plate with whatever looks enticing.

I am busy eating when Arniss arrives. He nods to me as he prepares his plate and then takes a seat close to me.

“Feeling better than you did last night?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer after swallowing the mouthful that I had been chewing.

“Jessa, you and Geoff need to understand that you are on their radar right now. A slip up at this point, even accidental, will land you in more trouble than you can get out of. Those Peacekeepers,” he whispers, “are likely under orders to deal with any problem any way that is necessary.”

I pause my chewing as I look at him wide-eyed. The morsel is swallowed and then I respond.

“Even by killing us, Arniss?”

“In an extreme case, yes. If it meant that one of you was going to be killed unless something was done, yes, they would kill the other. You both need to realize that they do not care one way or the other about you. All that they care about is a successful, high-rating Game. If that means that they need to bring in one or two replacements then they will. I have no doubt that District Nine already has two alternates sequestered in case they are needed. A special reaping has been ordered and carried out. That is how serious this is and you need to be mindful of this at all times. Do you understand what I am telling you, Jessa?”

“Yes,” I manage to answer in a whisper.

“Good, because, between the two of you, I genuinely like you. I think that you have understood the score from before your name was drawn. I haven’t seen any real fear from you and you have done a nearly perfect job of keeping your emotions hidden. I think, in fact, that if it had not been for the incident with Geoff after the parade that you would have kept them completely covered up.”

We are interrupted by the appearance of both Melli and Geoff and then the repositioning of the Peacekeepers. I nod to Melli as she is seated, but ignore Geoff as he speaks a greeting to Arniss. Suddenly, the appetite that I had possessed vanishes and I rise to walk to the elevator which will take me to the Training Center. One of the Peacekeepers falls into step with me and I ignore his presence as we are whisked downward to make our way to our destination.

The small amount of the Capitol that I have been able to see so far is almost beautiful to an excess compared to the way that we live in the districts. We toil to provide what they need to exist and relax in comfort.

I enter the Training Center early, much to the surprise of the two Careers from District Two. They watch me suspiciously as I wander to a bench and take a seat. Ignoring them is the key, I know, because this bothers them more than anything. Growing up in Two means that they have been preparing for the Games all of their lives and are proud that they were selected, or that they had volunteered, for this.

It was highly suspected that, even though it was forbidden by the official rules to do so, that Career tributes had been training with the weapons of their choice for years. This gave them a terrible advantage and more than one tribute from another district had died horribly because of it.

I also have an advantage that not even Geoff knows about. A headband, made from the tattered remains of a red dress long worn out, is carefully tied around my skull. Many in District Nine wear them to keep sweat at bay while in the fields, but they have another use.

Snakes, especially venomous ones, are common and a smooth stone hurled from a headband is more than enough to eliminate the threat. These encounters have a bonus as a snake is good to eat if properly prepared. I have cooked and eaten many after receiving instruction from Mama.

I am also very good with a staff, a skill that informed many older and larger children that the skinny girl was not one to be trifled with. Worn out or broken handles could easily be found and transformed into a force to be reckoned with.

Either of these weapons might be enough to tip the scales in my favor. To my knowledge, the only weapon that I have ever seen Geoff wield was a club made from a tree branch. He was normally, since his parents were well off, seen lounging on the porch of their home while he watched others his age going to the fields.

Several trainers appear as well as more tributes. We slowly converge to form a circle around the person in charge while we wait for the stragglers, Geoff among them, to arrive.

Finally satisfied that he has a complete captive audience, the trainer that is in charge speaks to us and the message is clear, punctuated by the fact that two Peacekeepers are standing by in case they are needed.

“Before we get started, I want to make sure that everyone,” he looks at Geoff and me pointedly, “understands that fighting will not be tolerated. Save it for the arena because that is why you are here.”

“As I am sure that you have all seen the Games I know that you realize that once you step into that launch tube that you need to know what your priorities are. Many of you will rush for the Cornucopia and the weapons, it happens every year. Others will grab what they can from what is near them and then try to get out of the area that happens too. Still others will simply flee. Whatever you do though, I assure you that nearly half of you will be dead by the end of the first two hours, if not twenty minutes of the Games.”

“Water, food and shelter are available if you can find them. We have made certain that the audience will not watch all of you either starve to death, die of thirst or not having shelter.”

“The arena this year is prone to bad weather both natural and Game maker made, be prepared for this. There are also other threats that you need to be ready for. The audience wants to see you die fighting, not curled up in a ball expiring from lack of food or water so be creative and observant. There are a number of things in the arena that may not appear to be edible but are if you know what to look for.”

This point has my attention and, I am sure, that of other tributes who are familiar with knowing what they can safely eat to stave off starvation. Geoff, coming from a family that never really worried about this, will be at a disadvantage in this respect.

We listen for a little while longer before we break up to begin the training that is intended to help us live longer and thus to ensure a Game that is entertaining to its audience.

I approach a station dedicated to making snares to trap food. This has my interest because going hungry, although already very familiar to me, is not how I want to spend my time in the arena.

Setting snares is not totally unknown to me as I have some experience in it, but I am not very good at it. Quickly, under the instruction of the trainer, I see where I have been making my mistakes. It is not long before I am setting passable snares that satisfy the trainer. She nods her approval as I complete the tasks and then sends me on my way.

Knife throwing catches my attention next, but it is soon obvious that I am nearly as much of a danger to myself as I am to the target. I nearly sever some of my toes when I drop, much to the horror of the trainer, one of the delicate and razor sharp weapons. Somehow my foot escapes damage after an amount of frenzied hopping and I lay the weapons back onto the table before walking away to find something that I am even possibly proficient at.

A rope ladder that ascends at an angle draws me and my slight form allows me to almost rocket upwards, even when the ladder flips and I find myself climbing inverted. At the top I cross a horizontal ladder to a platform and then descend on a knotted rope. We had all done this sort of thing while playing at school. While the boys were much stronger and could climb well, the lighter girls had a much easier time in many respects. A glance back at the others reveals a glowering Geoff as he watches me walk away.

I hear a scream, followed by a thump and hurry to see what has happened. A multi-level obstacle course has been set up and I watch as an unsuccessful Career girl rises from where she has fallen and tries to collect herself. Several trainers, just as in my dream, wait among the levels as they use staffs to try to prevent tributes from completing the course. I remember my dreams and how I was able to get through this session. Although the course was not identical to the one that I faced the idea is the same. A trainer watches my approach and then appraises me as I look things over, much to the amusement of the Careers that have stopped what they are doing to watch me.

“Are you ready to try it, Nine?” He asks as he takes note of the number on my uniform sleeve. “Every one of you has to learn how to get through this in one piece before you leave to start the Games. Do you feel ready to feel some pain?”

“Can I have one of those?” I ask as I indicate two staffs that are not in use.

“Do you think that they would help, Nine?" he answers with a snide grin. "You can use one, but you are forbidden to strike a trainer unless you are dueling with them.”

Inwardly I smile, not giving him a hint of what I think that I can do.

“I think that I want to try it,” I answer as I pick up one of the two meter long pieces of hard wood and then walk to the starting mark.

“Look alive in there,” he shouts to the others who lie in wait. “This one thinks that having a staff with her will help her get through the course and save her skin. Extra pay goes to those that bruise her up.”

He turns to me with a nasty smile that dies as I leap forward before the tone has ended.

The first two trainers were still resetting when I soar up onto the platform, shoulder rolling as I prepare for the third. He is a bit more ready for me but his strike is blocked by my weapon and I leap up and over the staff as it attempts to knock my feet out from under me. Three down, only a few more to go.

The fourth trainer pauses as we face each other trying to predict my move while I consider his. A wild notion comes into my mind and I do the last thing that he is expecting.

I charge directly at him with my staff ready.

Startled, he swings wildly at me and, with the help of my staff, loses his grip on his own weapon. It flies free of his grasp and directly at the next trainer, who is too busy dodging this errant projectile, to worry about me. I breeze past him as well and nearly into the path of disaster.

Overconfident, I had lost track of the next person and am only alerted by a whistling sound as the end of a staff approaches me. I grit my teeth as this weapon grazes my ribcage, nearly causing me to drop my staff. This trainer, made overzealous by my progress on the course, leaps from cover as a duel commences. I do not have his level of training but what I do have is white hot anger at the pain that has been inflicted on me.

I watch the whirling, humming weapon that he wields as I prepare for the attack that is coming. The staff that is my opponent’s suddenly lashes out at my face and my weapon, and my body goes under it. Too late he realizes my intent but, off balance, he has no chance to avoid my strike. My staff blocks a belated downward strike as my fist arcs toward his groin. There is the sound of a solid strike, a muffled groan as he drops his weapon and then he collapses to the platform a groaning mass.

The next man glances at his downed colleague and then swings at me without much conviction. The attack goes wild and he does not follow up as I pass to the next platform. I get a quick glance of him regarding the still moaning man and then shuddering as his hand drops between his own legs.

The next platform, manned by two trainers, appears to be the most formidable that I must assault because they both stand ready to face me. Thinking quickly I appraise the situation and then realize their weakness, and therefore their disadvantage.

This platform is too small for that they have planned.

I move forward to charge the trainer that does not seem to be as ready for me. If I can keep him between myself and his help I will only need to fight one person. Staffs crack loudly as we trade thrusts and strikes and the other trainer, trying not to interfere, is not able to get to me. I push forward as I try to hold the initiative. If I can keep him on the defense I can shove them both backwards and hopefully off of the platform.

We both swing low in and attempt to remove the solid footing of our antagonist and I feel the tip of his weapon graze the toe of my boot. This makes him bold, and careless, but a reverse of my strike goes high and collides with his helmet. I watch as his eyes roll back in his head and then shove him backwards into the other trainer. Overwhelmed by this sudden, and unexpected, weight he goes over the edge, the body of his unconscious teammate landing on top of him.

A warrior’s yell startles me and I see the next trainer leaping up onto the platform that I have just conquered. My staff meets his as we grapple for dominance and he suddenly lashes out at my face. The strike makes me see first stars and then red. Angry beyond belief I spit directly into his eyes. Blinded, he flails wildly and I strike with my staff to lay him low.

His absence makes the next platform easy and I look at the final remaining platforms. The next trainer has remained in the space between the platforms. Obviously he does not want a real fight and, already hurting, I do not either. I easily dodge his staff and leap onto a vacant platform where I stop to take in the situation.

The final trainers, like the pair before, have taken up a consolidated position on a platform. I curse softly because once again I have to face two at the same time. There is not much of a possibility that they will repeat the mistakes that the others made and I pause before starting a slow, almost leisurely approach.

Puzzled looks cross their faces as I move towards them while my plan of attack forms. I cannot fight them both at the same time so why not try something unexpected.

They move closer to me as I near where I need to be to jump to in order to get onto their platform. Out of the corner of my eye I see trainers and the other tributes watching in awe. This is only the first day of training and I stand very close to defeating the obstacle course.

“What are you going to do, Nine?” one of them shouts. “Do you think that we are going to get bored and just let you walk by?”

I ignore the words and then send a response.

“No, I just thought that I would give you a chance to surrender before you got hurt.”

Laughter echoes through the room and they look stunned by my brash answer. They are both angered by it, but it has told me what I need to know. I know in that instant which of the two is the most threatening and who I need to take out to complete this task.

“Last chance,” I call out, “I will not be responsible for injuries sustained by you two.”

A snarl answers my challenge and it is at this person that I launch myself.

Startled by my abrupt attack and shoved backwards by my outstretched arm one of the trainers goes off of the edge of the platform and out of consideration. My objective accomplished, all that I need to do is to survive long enough to get off of this platform and onto the finishing spot. My opponent, suddenly facing me alone, realizes this and we begin a circle while we both look for an opportunity to land a telling blow.

“There is no way that I am going to let you get past me, Nine,” he growls.

“I really hoped that you were not going to make this easy,” I answer. “I would have been disappointed if you had.”

“You are good,” he admits, “far better than I had imagined that you would be.”

“Thanks.”

Our eyes never leave the gaze of the other because that would be a terrible error. I catch a flicker in his eyes and suddenly lunge to meet his attack. We clash loudly, both breathing heavily as the contest continues and blows are launched to be blocked or deflected. Worry grows in his eyes as I gain the offensive and begin to back him towards the edge. This is something that I do not want as it will make him desperate enough to lose control and possibly really hurt me.

As we battle, I try to maintain a visual on where I want to be when I make my move. He is nearly where I want him to be and I am almost where I need to be.

He lashes out and I go under the attack while blocking the strike. Thrown off balance he whirls out of control and I make my move. He regains his footing and turns in time to see me leaping onto the finish platform.

I land softly and turn back to him only to back away as he follows. Suddenly I am afraid but the fear dies as he reaches out to place his hand gently on my shoulder and then speaks.

“Well fought, Nine, I am a big enough person to admit when I have been bested. I yield to you now. If there is anyone here who deserves to win the Games it is you. May the odds be ever in your favor!”

For the first time I see him as a person and nod quietly before speaking.

“Thank you.”

He looks at me once again for a long moment and then turns to my fellow tributes before bellowing a challenge to them.

“Well, you have all seen how it is done! Who is next?”

I walk away from the scene to find a medical technician waiting for me. The tall woman regards my injuries with detached interest before beginning to treat them. Obviously the worst is the damage to my torso and I grit my teeth as it is dealt with. Soon she backs away and then finally speaks.

“All finished, Nine, get back in there and back to training.”

I watch as she walks away and then look down at the formerly smooth staff. The surface is heavily damaged from the battles and I am grateful for this otherwise I would have been injured badly.

Having had enough for a while I hand the staff to a trainer who hustles it away before I can plae it back on the rack that it had come from. Obviously it has become an artifact of this year’s Games and will be preserved for the masses to examine once the events are history. Only once he is gone do I make my way to a less physical station.

It goes like this for the remainder of the day and all of us are grateful when this first day of training comes to an end.

I arrive back in our quarters with the Peacekeeper ahead of Geoff and his escort. Once there I walk directly to my room and the comfort that it offers. A hot shower waits for me and I know that the Capitol will send a technician to deal with the effects of my wounds.

This and dinner fill my evening and I am relieved when I finally slip into my bed. The mattress folds itself around me and soothes my aches so that I can sleep.

But my thoughts are talking to me.

_‘Well, now they all know that I can climb and use a staff. I need to be more careful in what I reveal.’_

I fall asleep thinking about this and wondering what is coming next.


	5. Five

Day two of the training begins just as the day before it had. I rise, shower, dress and then make my way to breakfast. Today, however, Geoff has preceded me to the table and is busy shoveling his breakfast down. 

I ignore the disgusting display as I help myself to some of what has been placed on the table for our selection. Unlike yesterday, where I had shown a number of the others my strength in two areas, I intend to “fail miserably” in others. I do not want to appear so formidable that a target is placed on me early. We all have that and I don’t want mine to be any larger than it is.

That Geoff wants me dead is certain and I still have no idea why. Is it because I was present when his parents were killed?

Whatever the reason all that I can do is to try to ensure that I kill him before he can end my life. We each do our best to ignore the other as I settle down to enjoy what is on my plate.

Melli enters the room next and we both receive a rather curt greeting from her before she joins us at the table. It is as she sits that I notice the disapproving glances that she is giving me. I finally realize that she does not like the way that I sit at the table, not very lady-like, and I quickly come to understand that she is trying to give me a tiny lesson in manners.

Memories flood back to me as I remember Mama trying to instill these very same lessons in her daughter, but I had been a slow and hesitant learner. She had been forced to concede that I was a nearly hopeless case and that she was going to have to be content with what progress I had made.

Which was not much at all.

Arniss arrives just as Geoff rises and stalks to the elevator to go to the Training Center, the Peacekeeper following him closely.

I take a more leisurely approach to eating and Arniss winks at me slyly. Clearly he has heard about my exploits on the first day and I catch his nonverbal cue to be careful. I nod slowly to tell him that I understand and he relaxes.

The Avox near me keeps an eye on the time and gently places her hand on my shoulder when I need to leave. Somehow, even though no words have passed between us, I feel closer to her than I have anyone since Mama’s passing. I rise from the table and walk to the elevator door closely followed by the Peacekeeper.

Like the Avox, this Peacekeeper rides to the Training Center while not speaking a word. I understand that he is here for two reasons. The first is to prevent trouble between Geoff and myself and the other is to protect me should something start. I am under no illusions in this matter. The Peacekeepers are under orders to, and will kill one or both of us if necessary and they will do it without hesitation. While it would put District Nine at a distinct disadvantage should either or both of the sequestered alternates be required to enter the Games, the Capitol would order it at a moment’s notice.

I have no intention of making them replace me. There will be time and opportunity enough for me to kill Geoff when we get to the arena and the Games have started.

The trainers are already busy with several tributes, Geoff among them, who have lined up to try to beat the obstacle course. As I watch from a distance, the Career girl who had failed yesterday fails once again and is forced to return to the line to wait for another try. No longer having to worry about that task I find myself drawn to the station that deals with camouflage.

This skill is something that may prove useful and I pay close attention to the trainer. Bored out of his mind because of the line at the course he is grateful that I have journeyed to his area and he gives me a top-notch lesson on becoming invisible.

While I know that this is serious business I find it entertaining and fun, even though I am not very good at it. As I am here alone he is able to work closely with me and, after a while, I begin to get the hang of it. Obviously I will not have paint in the arena, but much of the lesson deals with using materials that will be available in the arena to hide myself. This lesson is certainly useful as I realize that it might help save my skin and keep me alive.

I look over at the obstacle course in time to see Geoff fail horribly at it. I vaguely hear the trainer chiding him to be more like his teammate who was able to beat the course on her first try on the first day. Even from where I am seated I can tell that this criticism infuriates Geoff and I wonder how he will react to it.

He is told to go to the back of the line to wait for another attempt and I cautiously watch as he does so. From where I am I can tell that he is angry beyond all reason at what has been said to him and I can almost see him shuddering with pent up emotion.

My trainer gets my attention back and begins to go over the uses of more natural substances for concealment and, as I am watching him with rapt attention, neither of us really hear the shouted warning.

I see the movement at the last second as a blurred figure flies through the air, shoves me roughly from my seat and onto the floor.

Caught unaware and unprepared for the attack I find myself on my back as a baton is pressed down onto my throat. Bright flashes fill my sight as my air is cut off and the weight of Geoff Petar pushes down harder as he works at strangling the life out of me.

Faintly I hear shouts commanding him to stop but the pressure does not abate. Somehow I can see him over me as he fends off the Peacekeepers with one hand and works at killing me with the other.

Suddenly he is gone from above me as a Peacekeeper, desperate to save me, hurls himself at Geoff and uses his weight to pull him free. I drag deep breaths into my lungs and try to regain some control of a body that is still extremely weak after being deprived of oxygen.

I am just managing to get onto my hands and knees when I am seized from behind and pulled over backwards on top of him as the baton is drawn tight against my windpipe again. Once more I see the bright flashes in my vision and I feel myself weakening, dying, as he moves ever closer to his desired outcome.

Although I do not know it, the Trainers have joined the Peacekeepers in attempting to free me and somehow I am freed to once again try to draw air into my heaving lungs. I fall face first onto the floor, my arms and legs too weak to sustain my weight.

Just when I am beginning to make headway, to regain a sort of useable consciousness, I am attacked again by a Geoff who has obtained the strength of a madman. He lifts me by the throat and begins to throttle the remainder of the life out of me when a loud report is heard.

He drops me to the floor and I manage to see a spreading blotch of crimson on his uniform top. As he advances on me once again I hear a second report and he turns to the Peacekeeper who has shot him with a surprised look on his face.

I somehow cower away as the third shot echoes through the room. Blood sprays from his mouth as the projectile passes through him and then he collapses to the floor, writhes for a moment and then relaxes into a final stillness with a red pool spreading around him.

More abrupt noises sound as people run to my side and lift me up onto the table where I had been training. I feel a harsh sting in my arm and then something is shoved down my throat before pulses of life sustaining air are pushed into my starved lungs. I know none of the details as I pass into merciful unconsciousness and then am rushed out of the room and towards an emergency medical facility.

The whole episode is rather bizarre as I find myself standing at the end of the bed watching as doctors and other personnel work at restoring life to me.

Clearly my heart is no longer pumping because I see them start attempting to shock it back into function. My chest heaves upward after each shock and I can only quietly observe as a technician shoves a long needle into my chest to fill my heart with a stimulating drug.

As I watch this I realize that I am not alone. I turn my head to see Mama standing next to me, a mournful expression on her face.

“Please, Jessa, breathe, please start breathing again. I do not want you to join me so soon.”

“Mama,” I respond, “I am right here.”

She ignores me as we watch the doctors as they begin to give up hope for my survival.”

“Jessa, you need to breathe for me,” she pleads. “You need to breathe and open your eyes. You have too much to live for to die now. Please, Jessa, fight to come back to the living.”

“Mama?”

I look down at my dying body once again as another, more powerful, charge is sent into my chest. I watch as my body jerks and then my chest heaves as my heart restarts and I automatically inhale. 

“Thank you for coming back, my love,” she murmurs. “Now open your eyes so that I know that you are going to be okay.”

I feel strange, like a bubble being sucked towards a drain. Even stranger, I feel something pulling at me and taking me towards the body that I have been standing over. Then I can see no more but I can hear those working on me speaking.

“I have a clear heartbeat. It is leveling out and strengthening.”

“Good, I think that we might be able to save this one, but the boy from her district is a lost cause. The Peacekeepers were under orders to shoot to kill and they certainly followed those orders. I have seen tributes come home after the Games with less damage than he took.”

“And they survived?”

“Hell, no, the ones that I saw come back were the dead ones. Those Peacekeepers did their job and they did it well.”

“Will she be able to compete? I mean, is she too damaged.”

“Right now, I don’t know but, if she is too badly damaged, we have the word to put her down. The Capitol will not invest the necessary time and resources to rehabilitate her if the damage is too severe. She both recovers and pulls her weight or I use the needle and remove an unnecessary burden on the budget of the games. She just ends up in a hole a little early. Too bad if that has to happen, especially given the effort that we made to bring her back to this point.”

“How long do we wait before we put her down?”

“A few hours will tell us what to do. Put her in Isolation for now. If she comes out of it, fine. If not the needle is filled and ready.”

I hear one of them walk away and then the sound of the bed that I occupy being wheeled across the floor. The sound of a door opening tells me that I am in another room and I hear footsteps as the technician walks away after parking the bed. I am alone, for now at least, and I wonder what my fate will be.

Will I recover enough to rejoin the Games and likely die at some other time and in a much more gory fashion? Or will a needle in my arm put an end to my life in a few hours. Perhaps my heart will simply stop once more and I will be permitted to join Mama. I hope that, if that happens, that she will be able to hear me and speak to me. Then we can continue on as we once had in whatever world she now resides in.

As I had hoped Mama appears and, as we stand next to the bed that my body lies in, she speaks to me once again. Only this time she looks at me directly as I wait for her.

“Jessa?”

I nod and reach out to her with a trembling hand.

“Yes, Mama,” I answer.

“Jessa, it is not time for this! It is not time for you to lie in a bed like this.”

“Geoff Petar put me in that bed, Mama. I had no choice in this.”

“Why? The Games have not yet begun.”

“I do not know. He had been furious with me since his parents were killed after the reaping. It happened in the Justice Hall, they tried to stop the Peacekeepers from taking him to the train to bring him to the Capitol. They attacked the Peacekeepers and were shot to death.”

“Jessa, you need to listen to me,” she announces urgently, “you cannot die now. It is not yet your time and something terrible will occur if you do not return and reenter your body. Do not let them end your life! There is something that you need to do and you have to do it or things will change terribly.”

“What do I have to do, Mama?”

“I see, in the not so distant future, a small girl that is not unlike her mother, you, Jessa. You need to survive or she will never be.”

“Mama, I have seen her too and I have seen her die in the Games. I do not want to bring a child into the world to watch her being butchered.”

Mama looks at me strangely and then responds.

“Jessa, I do not know what you have seen but I have seen her live a long and full life complete with children calling her Mama, your grandchildren Jessa.”

“Grandchildren…? But that means that what I saw was…?” 

“An illusion designed and desired by Coriolanus Snow and the Capitol, Jessa.”

“But I have seen all of this before. I have seen myself volunteer as a tribute, fight and nearly die in the Games, win the Games and call Arniss my father.”

“I know,” she answers sadly.

“I saw him die outside the Justice Hall then I was made an Avox and I watched my daughter come into the world before she was taken from me. I watched her grow, be selected for the Games and then die.”

“Yes.”

A shudder goes through me before I continue.

“She was fathered by Snow!”

“Jessa! None of that actually happened! You are here, now, and you need to fight to survive. That child will be born, and you shall love her and guide her. Do not let Snow’s illusions stop you from this! She is waiting for you in the future. Do not disappoint her.”

“But, if all of what I saw was created by Snow, why?”

“I do not know, my love, but you cannot yield to him.”

“Then,” I continue as I look down at the body on the bed, “I need to take part in the Games.”

“Yes, my love, you do.”

“And that means that I must leave you and return to my physical body.”

“Yes, it does, my love, but I will always be with you. Whenever you need me I shall be there.”

A technician enters the room where I lay and is stunned when my chest heaves as I take in a deep breath and my eyes fly open as my hands rush for my throat. She hurries to my side and looks down into my frantically searching eyes before reaching up to touch a button which summons the doctor. He enters the room, takes in the scene and then nods before speaking.

“I guess that we will not need that needle after all. Inform the Game makers that it appears as if they will not need the female alternate. This tribute appears as though she will be able to take part in the Games. We shall do all that we can to get her back onto her feet before she appears before the sponsors and Game makers.”

As she hurries from the room to make the report he approaches my bedside and looks down at me.

“You surprised all of us, Miss Peaston. I guess that you shall possibly get to die in the arena instead of this room.”

He turns and walks out of the room leaving me to my thoughts.

I have just survived an attack by someone who is now dead at the hands of the Peacekeepers but who took part in the Games before and was killed by me. What is going on? Is all of this some sick dream manufactured by the Capitol? Has President Snow decided to destroy my mind since he was not able to destroy my body in the Games?

Before I can think more about this a needle sinks into my arm and darkness envelopes me. But before my eyes close get a glimpse of a face peering into my room through a small pane of glass in the door. What I see makes my blood turn cold.

I see the smiling face of President Coriolanus Snow.


	6. Six

I awaken in the room after several hours to find Arniss and Melli at my bedside. They note my eyes opening and both seem to take in a sigh of relief, although I do wonder what Melli is relieved about.

“Welcome back to the living,” Arniss states flatly.

“You had both of us so worried,” Melli adds. “It came as quite a shock when we were told what Geoff had done and what had happened after that. I personally felt so badly for him after the deaths of his parents and feel that, had it not been for that unfortunate occurrence that he never would have said or done some of the things that he did. He really did seem to be a very nice person if you were able to look past the anguish that he was experiencing.”

“They shot him,” I manage to squeak. “The Peacekeepers shot and killed Geoff.”

“Yes,” Arniss responds, “Geoff is dead. The Peacekeepers had no choice but to kill him when he was attacking you. It was either kill him and save your life or have to replace both of you. The male alternate is on his way to the Capitol and will be here late tonight. At least he will have a chance for some training before he meets with the Game makers and the potential sponsors. How are you feeling?”

“Really weak,” I answer as I notice a tube that is connected to my arm by a needle. I move my other hand to remove it and am stopped by Arniss.

“Jessa, no, leave it where it is. They are giving you supplements to help rebuild your strength.”

“You certainly do not want to go before the review in the state that you are in. If you did the best score that you could hope for would be a five,” Melli cautions.

I relax back in my bed as I think about the last thing that I had seen before now. Confused by it I look at the pair in front of me before I speak.

“I thought that I saw President Snow looking into my room last night.”

Melli brightens at this and then speaks, while I also catch a glimpse of Arniss rolling his eyes as he prepares for the coming explosion.

“He was here, Jessa. You may think badly of the Capitol and its people but he was concerned about you.”

“Concerned,” I erupt, “why would he be concerned? If I had died he simply would have had both alternates sent in our places. They would have taken part in the Games instead of us. I cannot and do not believe that anyone other than the families of the alternates was concerned about either Geoff or myself!”

Melli recoils as I speak and I see anger in her face. Her perpetual smile vanishes and I can almost feel her wrath before she responds to what I have said. 

“Well, you certainly have no sense of gratitude! You should know that he could have ordered them to simply end your life! Instead of providing you with supplements to help rebuild your strength that needle in your arm could have been used to put you down like they would a lame horse. Our beloved president did not have to order that you be saved but he did so out of benevolence.”

My own anger is growing and the thought of Coriolanus Snow being benevolent in sparing me ends any restraint that I have.

“Benevolence? I think that my dying in this room would not be the ratings maker that my dying in the arena after being hacked to pieces would be. It just would not draw the audience. Maybe they should have broadcast the attack on me now that would have drawn an audience, especially when they shot Geoff! More blood, gore and suffering tends to entertain the things that call themselves people in the Capitol!”

“I should slap you for that comment!”

“Go ahead but, before you do, hide these restraints. I would enjoy wrapping them around your throat and strangling the life out of you.”

She recoils again and then rises from the chair that she had been seated in to storm out of the room. I turn my attention to Arniss as the door whispers shut behind her and he shakes his head.

“Well that could have gone better,” he announces. “You certainly managed to push all of her buttons.”

“Too bad,” I retort.

“Hopefully once the alternate for Geoff arrives you can get out of here and back to training.”

“Why should his presence make a difference in my training?”

“No reason, I would just like to see you improve the situation.”

“Arniss, all that I want is to get out of here so that I can show them what I am made of.”

“I don’t doubt that, Jessa. But be careful what you say in front of Melli from now on. All that it would take is for her to spout off about what you said and you would not have to worry about dying in the Games. Snow would take care of that for you.”

He watches as I nod my understanding and then rises from the chair. I permit his hand coming down to caress mine and then look up at him.

“I will see you when they let you out of here, fireball. Just be careful what you say and who you say it in front of. I do not want them to have to bring the alternate in for you. Somehow I just do not thing that she could measure up to what I see in you.”

“Thanks, I think,” I answer as his hand leaves mine.

He leaves the room and I stare up at the ceiling for a moment. None of me wants to miss the Games. I am beginning to sit up in my bed when the doctor enters the room.

“What do you think that you are doing, Miss Peaston?”

“Getting ready to leave,” I answer as I reach down to pull the needle out of my arm. “I want my clothes and I want them now!”

He is preparing to answer when I swing my body to slide off of the bed. My feet have no sooner hit the floor and my weight put upon them when the room starts to spin. I hear his curse as he rushes to catch me before I hit the floor but I manage to get ahold of the bed to prevent that disaster.

“Can I have my clothes or do I have to wander the streets of the Capitol naked?”

“You are in no condition to leave this facility,” he answers. “I want you back in that bed before I call the Peacekeepers to restrain you.”

“Doctor,” I growl, “you had better hope that you can get to the button to call them and that they can get to me before I reach you. If they do not I am afraid that you will end up as the patient because right now I am just angry enough to do something to you that will not be very pleasant.”

Shock crosses his face as his eyes search mine for deceit or hesitation and find none.

“Are you threatening me, Miss Peaston?”

“No, doctor, I am promising you. Now get me my damn clothes!”

A short time later I am dressed and slowly walking out of the medical facility when I am abruptly joined by two Peacekeepers. They fall into step with me and take up positions on each side of me as I walk. I find a vehicle waiting for us and soon am riding a very familiar elevator up to the floor designated for District Nine.

Stunned expressions cover the faces of both Melli and Pietor as I step out of the elevator, fighting the urge to collapse as I do. Arniss merely shakes his head in resignation to the fact that I have refused to surrender and now am back in the Games.

“Well look who is back,” he announces in an effort to sound aggravated. “I told everyone that she was too damn stubborn to quit but no one believed me.”

I ignore his outburst, easy to do since I have been doing it for most of my life. A chair nearby is inviting and I manage to cross the distance to it and settle down onto the cushion instead of merely plummeting onto it.

“You wanted to be here to see who had been selected to replace Geoff! I’m right, aren’t I?” he almost shouts.

Although this had not been my intent I was rather curious about who had been forced to take the place of the corpse that was already on its way to District Nine.

“We already know,” he continues, “and you had better be at the top of your game.”

I see concern in his eyes as he makes this statement and suddenly feel uneasy. Which boy is on his way to the Capitol from District Nine?

Pietor crosses the room and then settles down in a chair next to mine while Melli goes out of her way to both avoid and ignore me. Obviously she is more than a little angry with me and I could care less. I have, in my fourteen years in District Nine and my short time here in the Capitol, had more than my fill of how those from the districts are treated. I am surprised when Pietor, of all people, speaks to me.

“Are you feeling better, Jessa? I heard that you had been hurt pretty badly. Will you be able to take part in the interview with Caesar Flickerman? A great number of people would understand if you cannot.”

“No one has to worry about me,” I answer with as much decency as I can will into my voice. “I intend to be there to sit on that stage and answer his questions.”

Pietor nods and I turn my head as I see movement out of the corner of my eye. Arniss settles down into another chair and I am able to smile at him. He knows what I want to hear and is about to speak when the door to our quarters whispers open and a Peacekeeper enters the room followed by a man who sports an insanely hued head of hair and beard. No doubt he is one of the Game makers and I am just beginning to wonder why he is here when a boy already dressed as a tribute steps out of the elevator. I gasp as I recognize him, one of Geoff’s closest friends and someone who will likely carry a grudge.

“I assume, Miss Peaston,” the Game maker trumpets, “that you recognize this fine young man. He actually volunteered to be here when he heard about the death of Geoff Petar. The previous alternate was almost beside himself what he was told that he would not be making the trip, that there had been a volunteer.”

“Yes, I recognize him,” I answer before turning my attention to the new arrival. “How have you been, Jonnathan?”

He looks at me at my question and I know instantly that he is present because he wanted to see me, dead that is. We have never been friends and the fact that he is here because of the death of a friend does not help any.

“Jessa,” he answers quickly with a curt nod.

I feel ill and not because of my stay in the medical facility. Jonnathan Stinis hates me with a passion and no doubt blames me for the deaths of Geoff and his parents. Part of me wants to rise and flee the room, but that would tell him that I fear him. Mell moves to stand next to him and now I hate her even more.

“Let me show you to your room, Jonnathan,” she croons.

They leave the room to show him to his and I watch as the Game maker and his escort walk back to the elevator and disappear as well. Only then do I turn to Arniss.

“They sent Jonnathan Stinis? Arniss, you know that he hates me and will do whatever he can to make certain that I die in the first minutes of the Games.”

“I know, Jessa, and I cannot tell you how sorry I am. When he found out that Geoff had died and that you were involved he volunteered immediately. Jessa,” he continues, “he made a vow while he was standing on the stage in District Nine that he was going to repay your treachery. He promised everyone that he was going to kill you and put your head on a stake for all to see.”

“My treachery?” I exclaim. “He attacked me in the Training Center and nearly killed me. I was sitting in a chair, learning about camouflage when he struck. We had not really spoken since the argument in the train.”

“I know, but he is dead set on going through with all of this.”

“Then,” I answer, “I guess that I need to kill him before he kills me.”

“Get away from the bloodbath as fast as you can, Jessa. Leave the area, live to fight another time or he will kill you.”

I nod at the advice and then rise to walk to my room. None of the food that waits for us interests me and, for once, I do not show anger at the fact that the Peacekeeper still stands outside my room.

The door closes behind me and I hurry to the shower. I want all trace of Geoff Petar washed from me and I wish that I could do the same with Jonnathan. The hot water soothes my aching muschles and I avoid looking down at the marks left on my chest by the attempts to resuscitate me. The hot water pours down over me almost endlessly until I finally decide that I have had enough.

The air drying takes no time at all, although I wish that I had a thick towel to wrap around me. Still naked, I put my arm into the box and nearly instantly my hair is dry and falling down around my shoulders. Movement in the room alerts me to a presence and I turn to see the female Avox waiting for any requests that I might have.

Almost as if by magic she produces a robe and steps forward to place it around me. My tired arms slide into the sleeves and I nod my thanks. She turns and leaves the room, but not before uncovering a plate that has appeared from a slot in the wall that I had not noticed before.

I gasp as I see food that I had thought about waiting for me. A second later the slot opens again to reveal a large, fluffy towel like the one that I had wished for.

Realizing what this means, that I can think about what I want and it will be provided for me, I sit down to eat everything that I can. While I eat, I think.

Tomorrow is the third day of training and then we meet with the Game makers. Jonnathan will be at a disadvantage in this respect. He will have only a partial day of training before they see what he can do. I, at least, will have nearly two days and already have proven myself.

If he does poorly during his review perhaps he will get a poor score and thus no sponsors. I need to shine brightly and that means unveiling my other strength. Al least none of the others, Jonnathan included, will see this and I will have something unexpected to use once we enter the arena.

Even though I know that it is impossible, I find myself hoping that these Games play out like those in my dreams. But Geoff is dead and none of the other tributes are displaying the strengths that they had shown before. So much is alike but other things are so totally different. This has me wondering how I could have imagined these things in such detail. Had I somehow seen all of this before?

This is, of course, impossible as the only people from the districts to see the Training Center and other areas of the Capitol are the tributes and mentors. There are no televised training sessions to keep secret strengths just that, secret.

Something was not right and I begin to wonder if the Games have not already started. Would the Capitol turn armed tributes loose on its streets? Would they risk the lives of unarmed Capitol citizens, particularly the very old or very young?

Surely they would not go to those lengths but I am still confused. The third day is only a few hours away and with it a chance to see some of what Jonnathan can do. Perhaps he will show enough to reveal a critical weakness that will make him easy prey. If not I will be forced to deal with an unknown once we get into the arena.

Perhaps I will be luck and someone else will eliminate him or, if I am very lucky, perhaps he will step off of pad too early in his eagerness to get to me and get blown to pieces.

This is all unknown but what I do know is that very soon I will be forced to make decisions that will either save my life or end it. Once again, as in my dreams, I will face people who want the same thing that I do, to survive and go home.

I settle back onto the bed and allow the bedding to wrap around me. The effect of this is rapid and I soon lapse into a deep and restful sleep.


	7. Seven

After what seems like only a very short nap I find myself being roused by the female Avox. I rise, shower, dress and then step out into the living area where a breakfast has been laid out for out choosing. 

Arniss is coming out of his room and I ignore his loud yawn as I fell my plate and take my seat. I am ravenously hungry, haven not eaten much the day before, and am rising to get more when Jonnathan exits his room.

Like Arniss, he is ignored and I deliberately take my time at the table while he waits. Knowing that he will not approach the buffet while I am there, I dawdle. Only when I catch a warning glance from Arniss do I leave to return to my place at the table.

The whole thing has him furious and, once he has a full plate, Jonnathan storms into his room to eat in solitude.

“Be careful, Jessa,” Arniss advises. “It will not be long before you two are in the area. There will not be any Peacekeepers there to keep you two apart. Remember what I said about the vow that he made? He will likely ally with others to get help in removing you from the Games early on. I do not doubt that your exhibition the other day will be passed on to him by some of the other tributes. You gave them reason to be concerned about what you can do and they will probably do all that they can to remove a major threat fast.”

I nod my understanding as Melli walks into the room. Although she acts as though she is ignoring me I can tell that she is very interested in my plans and in gaining any information that she can. I return my attention to my breakfast and give her nothing of interest to listen to.

A glance at the clock tells me that I should go to the Training Center now if I want to do so without Jonnathan around. My escort joins me as I walk to the elevator and I can see the consternation on Melli Searson’s face as I leave without giving her anything useful.

I actually find myself smiling as I walk and the Peacekeeper has to think that I have lost my mind, perhaps an unexpected side effect of the attack. We enter the Training Center ahead of the others and I have already managed to climb the rope ladder before the first of them arrives. One by one they stare at me, a girl that they had thought was as good as dead, with stunned expressions.

There was no doubt in my mind that they had written me off and now there I was, in the last place that I had expected. Not only was I there, I was once again showing my strengths and yet no weaknesses were apparent.

Amused by their confusion I watch as they line up to try the obstacle course. Jonnathan hurries to be the first in line and I almost laugh aloud as he is taken out by Trainer Three. He crashes earthward as his legs are taken from under him and he lands in a furious heap on the floor.

The morning goes much like this until we are herded to the room where we go to eat. This, I understand, is the beginning of the review for the Game makers.

I watch as the male tribute from District One, a vicious and arrogant lout, is led from the room. He looks around the room with a leer on his face that settles on me before he vanishes.

Those of us that are waiting to be called are able to wander around the room under the watchful eyes of the ever present Peacekeepers. I casually make my way to a planter and, to my joy, find smooth, rounded stones. Carefully, so no one notices, I palm several of them and they vanish into my pockets. More are needed but I cannot linger here for very long before I start to draw notice.

Another planter loses some stones while the others are distracted by the girl from District One departing. She is a visibly vicious creature that I have done my best to avoid. In close combat she has revealed herself to be cunning as well as ruthless. She also has managed to defeat the obstacle course although she did far more damage to the trainers than I. They had been happy to see her complete this task.

More stones vanish into my pocket and I am satisfied that I have enough to suffice. I am hoping for enough available targets to demonstrate my hidden abilities. Of course, I will demonstrate my abilities with the staff but I want to stun them with my long range capabilities. If I can do well enough I should be able to get a superior score.

While I watch the others as they leave I think back to what I had been able to see of Jonnathan in the past in District Nine as well as in the Training Center today. He is a brawler, content to settle his differences with others using his fists. While I cannot be sure of much else I am certain that he is extremely easy to goad into losing his temper. He had done it often enough while we were growing up that nearly all of the children, girls included, made great sport of pushing his buttons enough to infuriate him to near violence. They normally made certain that a larger boy, an adult or a Peacekeeper was close enough to intercede should they push him too far.

In front of the Game makers he will be alone, without a living, breathing antagonist to take issue with and this, I hoped, would be his undoing. Perhaps he would lose control enough to try to get to the people that could do him the most good, or harm.

I finally sit down to enjoy some fruit while I watch others leave. It would not be much longer before Jonnathan was called. The boy from District eight had been gone for a while and everyone knew that very soon the girl would go.

As no one had returned to give us a clue as to what to expect all of us were kept guessing. Abruptly door opens and the girl vanishes through it. I refuse to watch for a reaction from Jonnathan because I do not wish to give him a provocation to draw energy from. It is better, I feel, to let him go before them without a pool of fury to fuel him.

I am pushing my empty plate into the slot that accepts refuse when the door opens and I hear him called for. He is quite deflated when he leaves while I could not be happier.

I sit quietly while I wait for my turn and, soon enough the door opens and a Peacekeeper appears.

“Female, District Nine,” he announces.

Steeling myself for what I need to do I rise from my seat and quietly follow him. We emerge into the Training Center which is darkened somewhat but all weapons are waiting for personal use. I step forward to a circle that is painted on the floor and then turn to face the waiting Game makers before I speak.

“Jessa Peaston, District Nine.”

There is no vocal response from them but I do get several nods. I move suddenly to seize a very familiar staff and set it into motion as I lunge into a blurring attack on the first target.

The staff in my hands has evolved into a whirring form that strikes first one target and then the next as memories of the course fuel my performance. 

Target after target falls until I reach a point where only distant targets remain and I cast the staff aside, jerk my headband free and swiftly load a stone which rockets away to strike a very distant knife target.

Murmurs reach my ears as I loose stone after stone with unerring accuracy and, although they had initially started to move forward to disarm me, now even the attending Peacekeepers watch in awe.

My path has taken me close enough to a human shaped target that I can topple it backwards with a sweep of its leg from behind. As it falls my headband becomes a garrote that I use to simulate a neck break.

My targets downed and my body shining with sweat I move back to the circle, retrieving the staff as I do. It finds its place on the rack and I stop to stand facing my audience.

I am disappointed when they do not speak but dismiss me with a nod. A door that I know very well opens and I hurry to leave the room. It is over, my one chance to impress them and get a good score has ended and, as I walk to the elevator with a Peacekeeper at my side I wonder just how well I did in comparison to Jonnathan.

We arrive on the floor reserved for District Nine and I walk to the couch to almost collapse onto it. All of the pent-up energy that I had drawn upon has been expended and I feel as weak as a newborn.

Arniss watches me from a distance but does not approach or speak. He knows what I am feeling and yet does not know how to make me feel any better about it. That cannot happen until we hear our scores in a few hours.

The physical part of the training has come to an end. There will be no more trips to the Training Center. Now we must face Caesar Flickerman face to face in front of cameras and all of Panem.

I spend part of the rest of the afternoon almost limp. Not even a hot shower interests me and I can barely rouse myself for dinner when it arrives. To my defense, I notice that Jonnathan is behaving in a similar manner with the exception that he has a very violent and loud explosion that only ends when the Peacekeepers bring their rifles to the ready. Obviously they would have no problem in making District Nine go into the Games with only one tribute. Not even Melli’s orders make them lower their weapons and it is only the fact that Jonnathan retreats into his room that prevents more bloodshed.

The sudden sound of the anthem and the appearance of the eagle on the screen brings me back to life, Arniss and Melli to the chairs and Jonnathan out of his room at a run. The Peacekeepers station themselves to be ready should they be needed and I note, although I am not certain that the others have, that each of the officers have moved their weapons off of safety.

A moment later, the ever smiling face of Caesar Flickerman appears along with that of this year’s co-host. It is never the same person as the year before as it is rumored that Caesar does not want his audience to look forward to anyone but him. They go through the normal banter and then the face of the boy from District One appears behind them. A few words are spoken about him and then his score is shown.

Nine

While this is a high score, and also very respectable, I doubt that the Career is happy. His female counterpart is next and she too gets a nine.

We sit glued to the spectacle as faces, some of them very familiar from when I dreamt about this, pass by with their scores.

Finally Jonnathan’s face appears, there is no mention of Geoff, and then his score.

Seven

He had apparently been able to impress at least some of the Game makers but the score that I am most interested in comes next. I watch, scarcely able to breath, as my face appears and then as the score flashes.

Nine

I shriek with happiness, Melli manages a weak congratulations, Arniss winks at me silently and Jonnathan rockets to his feet and storms out of the room, slamming hard into one of the Peacekeepers and nearly knocking him off of his feet.

None of the rest of the broadcast gets much attention. Our different reactions have told me much. Arniss is clearly an ally while Melli cannot truly be trusted. She is obviously on the side of my counterpart and there is no way that I can look to her for any sort of assistance.

Clearly my comments to her while I was in the Medical Facility have not been forgotten.

I decide right then that I shall have no further interaction than I have to with this woman. Arniss can tell me what I need to know while she spends her time catering to Jonnathan. What she does not realize is that I clearly remember the assistance that the Melli in my dreams gave me while preparing for the upcoming interview.

I rise to walk to the food on the buffet to fill a plate. A bowl is also filled as the Avox servants have uncovered a tureen of soup that I savor. I settle at my space to enjoy the food that I had been avoiding.

Arniss joins me to enjoy a bowl as well and I catch another silent congratulations. Soon he will give me the coaching that I will need for the interview. Melli can advise Jonnathan experience in all of this. She has never faced the Games, Arniss has and his insight will be extremely helpful.

While I eat, I consider things. In my dreams I had detested Arniss but in the reality I actually enjoy his company and almost actively seek it. In my dreams he had been frequently intoxicated and almost useless at times, here he is all business, wanting me to do as well as I can.

If he is my father I wonder if he is not now trying to make amends for his past misdeeds where I am concerned. Does he regret not being a real part of his child’s life? Or is all of this, including my dreams, a part of my imagination? Will I wake in my hovel in District Nine to find that none of this has happened and that I escaped selection or will I once again ascend to the stage in front of the Justice Hall?

I notice as we eat silently that he glances at me frequently. The once common revulsion at being so near to him fades slowly as I think about what is coming and how he can help me. I finally rise to leave the table but stop as he speaks.

“Get some sleep, Jessa, you are going to need it. The interview is just as dangerous as the actual Games. If you are not careful while you are with Flickerman on that stage you might as well step off of that pad early. Your game will be over before it even starts.”

“I understand,” I answer as I start to walk away.

“Jessa?”

I stop and half turn to look over my shoulder at him.

“Yes?”

“Congratulations on the nine,” he finishes.

“Thanks,” I respond as I give him what is likely one of the few real smiles that he has ever seen from me.

The bed in my room calls quietly to me as I change. I am exhausted and I welcome the warm embrace as I slide under the blanket and feel the bed wrap around me. My eyes close and I go to sleep hoping that Mama will be waiting for me.

And she is.

“Jessa, my love, you did well today?”

“Yes, Mama, I did well. I got a nine when I met with the Game makers. I interview with Caesar Flickerman tomorrow.”

“Be cautious, my love. Caesar Flickerman is a jackal, a product of the Capitol and just as dangerous and Coriolanus Snow. With a single word he could end your life and he would feel nothing about doing it.”

“He may appear friendly, Jessa, but he is constantly searching for weaknesses. One mistake, no matter how miniscule, will give him everything that he needs to mark you as a threat to the Capitol. As soon as he spoke about it they would crush the life out of you. You would have no chance at all of surviving, much less winning, the Games. He would enjoy making a commentary about your death. Do not trust him in the slightest and do not make the mistake of appearing vulnerable. He would swoop upon it like a vulture circling a dying animal.”

“I understand, Mama.”

“Jessa, you need to continue to trust Arniss. He is your best source of information. He will tell you what you need to know.”

“I understand.”

She smiles at me and then begins to fade, but not before speaking to me again.

“I love you, Jessa.”

“I love you, Mama.”

The last echo of her voice lulls me into a deeper sleep and I unknowingly wrap the blankets tighter around me.

Soon I will awaken and begin the preparations for the interview. The only thing left after the interview are the Games themselves. Somehow, I understand, I and my fellow tributes have already begun the contest which has already claimed the lives of three people and will seize twenty-three more.

The only thing that I can hope for is that I am not one of them.


	8. Eight

A gentle nudging tells me that it is time to get up. I roll over to see the female Avox who is, in her own silent way, telling me that I need to get ready for the very decisive day ahead.

Bidding a reluctant farewell to the bed I walk to the shower to begin the process that will carry me to the interview.

There are hours of coaching before Jonnathan and I, four hours with each of the coaches. Once Melli and Arniss are convinced that we are ready to go Pietor and his team will finish the preparations that are needed before the main event.

I linger under the shower knowing that tomorrow there will be no time for this. The interviews start at a precise time and not an instant later. The Avox appears with my robe and I leave the shower to be dried and to get dressed.

Melli is waiting for me when I exit the bedroom and we quietly walk to an area that has been prepared for this use. I gently perch on a chair, remembering the coaching that I had received before, and she looks stunned. I have no desire to listen to preaching from her and by the time that we are two hours into the session she has to be content with correcting small issues with my posture.

The “other” Melli has done an incredible job of making me acceptable as well as lady-like when I need to be. Clearly this Mell is angered by the fact that I am easily falling into character and that there is no reason for reproach. Flabbergasted, she releases me early and I settle down to wait for Arniss while also grabbing a quick breakfast.

Jonnathan suddenly appears, shouting angrily over his shoulder at Arniss. Cautiously I rise as Geoff’s replacement vanishes into the room where Melli waits and I walk to where Arniss is stationed. He waves me in and I move to occupy a chair across from him as he pours himself what is obviously a very much needed drink.

“I hope that you do not make me as close to knocking you on your ass as he did. He was very close to starting the Games early and he would not have liked the countdown,” he growls.

Somehow I decide that words are not what I need at the moment and I sit quietly. He gulps his drink while I wait in silence and then he looks at me curiously.

“Why are you here, Jessa?”

“Because I finished with Melli,” I respond.

He shakes his head and I am confused.

“That is not what I meant, Jessa. Tell me why you are here. Pretend that I am Flickerman and tell me and the audience why you are going to be the one who survives to win the Games. Make me believe that you truly want to make them remember you. Make them want to remember you enough to sponsor you if you need it.”

Understanding fills me as he speaks and I demonstrate this with a question.

“The Games have already started?”

“Yes, Jessa, the Games have already started. They started the minute that we got up on the morning of the Reaping. The countdown in the arena is all for show. It builds the suspense for the audience, knowing that within a minute that they are going to start watching tributes, people, die. I have heard them cheering in the streets of the Capitol while the numbers are counted down. Citizens, even the children, in the streets are nearly rabid by the time that the clock reaches zero and the blood starts to spill.”

“Do I have a chance, Arniss?”

“I wish that I knew, Jessa. You have ability, everyone that will be out on that field knows that. The moment that you demonstrated what you could do you were marked. I overheard Jonnathan telling Melli that he wants to make an alliance with the Careers and as many others as he can to hunt you down.”

“Can he do that?”

“There are no rules against it. He can do it if they are willing to both listen to him and help him do what he wants.”

I nod my understanding as the gravity of the situation hits me. The other tribute from District Nine wants me dead bad enough to make deals with those who want him dead as well.

“Then I need to be on the offensive as soon as I can,” I comment slowly.

“Yes, Jessa, you need to be ready to strike as soon as you are able to. Get a good idea of what each of them is capable of and use it against them. You have already seen them in action in the Training Center and even though they hid what they are best at, you know as much about them as they do about you. I assume that you hid something that you did not reveal and I will not ask you about it, but whatever it was be prepared to use it.”

“Jessa, I know that it is your token but the Game makers want to examine your headband. They do this with all tokens and usually give them back, unless it is some weapon that will give you an unfair advantage.”

I am nearly numb with fear as I had it to him. Certainly I can make another one from my clothing in the arena, but it will not be as familiar as the one that I have just been forced to hand over. There is the added pain that is from the fact that the headband had once been a part of one of Mother’s dresses that had become too tattered to be of any other use.

Arniss seems to understand this because I can see unmistakable sympathy in his eyes. He gently folds the red material and then places it into his pocket. I feel a tear begin its trip down my face and do not object when he takes me into his arms and then holds me while I sob.

“I will do all that I can to get it back to you,” he whispers as he rubs my back while I cry into his shoulder.

We spend the rest of the time going over strategy and I try to listen to his voice while my attention is on the frayed piece of cloth that is in his pocket. When the time for us to be handed over to Pietor arrives I look into Arniss’ eyes and then make a simple request.

“Before we go out there can I see and hold it one more time? I may never get to do it again and it is all that I have left of her.”

He nods and then pulls it out of his pocket and I fight the urge to seize it and bolt from the room. My fingers caress the material and I hold it to my face as my tears dampen it just as they had when she had worn it while comforting me. I feel her presence as I hold it and even the Peacekeeper that has entered the room seems moved by the scene.

I finally hand it back to Arniss and he hugs me once more before placing it back into his pocket. The door whispers open and Pietor enters, taking in my state before speaking.

“We need to get you ready, Jessa.”

I allow him to lead me out of the room and then back to the Remake Center where his team springs into action.

No emotion crosses my face while they work, how could it? I am emotionally drained by the day. The loss of a simple piece of red cloth has done more damage to me than anything before it.

Although progress is made swiftly on my external appearance Pietor appears worried. My mood is affecting the effect that I project and he is concerned that this effect will create problems when I meet Caesar Flickerman.

Much rides on this and he knows it. If I have a poor interview the sponsors will shun me as a lost cause. Even with a score of nine with the Game makers a lot of damage will occur if I botch the meeting. I am feeling lost and hopeless as I sit there and I actually fall asleep.

This has two effects as Pietor is nearly frantic and this is not good. Once he reaches a frenzied state planned events go haywire. I do not know any of this, however, I am too busy dealing with another frantic adult.

“Jessa, why are you doing this?”

I open my eyes at this familiar voice to see Mama standing before me.

“What happened, Jessa? Why have you come apart like this?”

“They took my headband, Mama. They took it and they may not give it back.”

“Is that what all of this is about, Jessa, a headband made from an old dress?”

“It came from your dress, Mama. It was all that I had of you here!”

“No, Jessa, you have so much more of me with you in the Capitol than a headband.”

“Mama, it was the only thing that I brought with me.”

“Jessa, you have yourself! You are so much more of me than a piece of ragged cloth. That headband was a tool that you used, nothing more, and without you all that it was is a rag. It does not matter if it is gone, Jessa, you have yourself and that is all that is important. You can create a new one from your clothes in the arena if you have to.”

“But it would not be the same, Mama. It would not have come from your dress,” I wail.

“Listen to me, young lady,” she commands in a voice that I remembered well because it normally came right before a sore backside. “It does not matter one bit where it came from. You need to get your head back into the Games before you meet with Caesar Flickerman and before someone removes it from your shoulders!”

The statement, and the tone that it is delivered in, has the desired effect. I do need to get my head back where it belongs. Remembering the clothing worn in previous Games I know that mine will be more than capable of sparing enough material to produce a sling.

“Do you understand me, Jessa?”

“I do, Mama.”

“Good, now get back to business because I do not want you shipped home in a box!”

The stylist standing over me is startled as my eyes fly open. Pietor, nearly beside himself with worry, hurries to my side and smiles broadly when I speak.

“What is everyone waiting for? I have an interview with Caesar Flickerman and it cannot be anything less than perfect!”

A new sense of momentum comes over them as they double efforts on a subject that has given them new hope.

The makeup and hairstyle move along quickly and not long after that I am slipping a beautiful dark purple gown on. It is trimmed with the same sort of golden braid that was on my parade costume. Gold sandals adorn my feet and I take time to practice walking in them. It would not do to trip and fall while going on stage or leaving it at the end of the interview.

When all is finished and Pietor is certain that his team’s efforts have produced exceptional results Jonnathan and I are hustled to separate cars which whisk us to the theater where the interviews will be televised from. We join a line of tributes that is growing and I know that this will be one of the last times that we are all together but not trying to kill each other.

That part comes tomorrow morning. Tonight we are all going to try to outshine the other twenty-three. I look around as I stand near Jonnathan and see the Peacekeepers who are standing in concealed but still effective firing positions.

Tonight is the last time that I can count on their protection because tomorrow, at ten in the morning, we are all on our own.

Unless we are part of a pack.

My attention is suddenly drawn by the start of the anthem and, amid a wild light show, the appearance of Caesar Flickerman. He is not a large man, taller than I which does not mean much because I am short, but terrifying all the same. Obviously others among the line of tributes feel the same way because they react with a show of nervousness. I do all that I can to conceal the skittish girl that I have abruptly become. The fact that I will not be among the first to meet him helps a great deal.

I watch as the girl from District One walks onto the stage once Caesar’s nearly obscene introduction comes to an end. She stands on a red circle while he speaks and I know that I am not mistaken about her nervousness.

“We have what I believe to be one of the best groups of tributes for the Hunger Games that has been assembled in many years. I have seen the recordings of them in action during the training and, believe it or not, one of them actually managed to defeat the obstacle course on the first day of training!”

I know that my face is flushing at this statement, that the eyes of all of the tributes are on me and that the audience is stunned by the news. The oohs and aahs that I hear doo nothing to relieve the sudden trepidation that I feel, in fact, they make me more nervous.

“These incredible tributes are here tonight so that we can all see them before they get down to the business at hand tomorrow.”

“Our first tribute tonight is District One’s own Stiletto!”

The audience claps and cheers as the girl steps into view. While she is settling down to speak with him I am still thinking about her name and feeling very glad that Mama had decided to name me something normal. Jessa does not have the ominous sound that stiletto does but at least my name alone does not paint me as a threat.

We listen to them for three minutes as she gushes about her gratitude to the Capitol for allowing her to represent her district in the Games. Caesar smiles during the entire spiel but I have to wonder if he does not find her as shallow as I do.

She finally rises only to be replaced by the boy from her district. Saber, his parents actually named him Saber. It is only after I look at them more closely that I realize that they have to be related, perhaps siblings or even twins. His conversational skills are even more challenged that hers were and we are all thankful when he leaves.

And so it goes, three minutes to either ensure that you have a reasonable chance of getting sponsors or scare them off.

My heart is racing when the boy from District Eight is called to the stage for his interview and I am directed to the red staging circle. It is an odd situation when your palms are sweating and yet your mouth is dry. An Avox hands me a glass of water to sip while I wait and I nod to her gratefully. Then it happens and I have to force myself to move after handing back the glass.

“Now, from District Nine, we have Jessa Peaston!”

I move into camera range and do my best to replay the Jessa from the parade. Smiling as best as I can and waving to the audience I walk to where Caesar waits and take his offered hand before being seated.

Then he speaks directly to me for the first time.

“The Capitol has to be quite different from your home district, Jessa, but surely there are at least a few similarities that you have noticed.”

 _‘A trap,’_ I decide, _‘time to sidestep it.’_

“You know, Caesar,” I begin, “I have seen similarities. I mean the way that the Capitol shines in the sun reminds me of the gleaming grain fields. There is beauty everywhere and you do not have to take any time to see it. It’s all around you here.”

Enormous applause fills the theater at this and Caesar plays it up.

“Jessa, can you think of something here in the Capitol that has outshone everything else?”

 _‘Another trap,’_ I think, _‘here goes nothing.’_

“The people, Caesar, the people of the Capitol have been so kind, helpful and generous that I shall remember it always.”

More applause rocks the theater.

“You face incredible competition this year, how do you intend to overcome it?”

“By doing what I know is the best thing to do.”

“And what is that?”

“By staying confident and ready to face whatever I need to with that confidence. My counterpart and I were dressed as the ancient priests and priestesses were when they beseeched the gods for a bountiful harvest. Now I ask them for a bountiful outcome in the Games. The odds may not be in my favor right now,” I add, “but I know that they will be when I need them.”

Standup applause echoes through theater and only intensifies when Caesar speaks again.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, District Nine’s own Jessa Peaston!”

I leave the stage, waving and smiling as I go, to be taken to a quiet area while Jonnathan stumbles through his answers. Caesar is clearly distressed by this but does his best to keep smiling. The girl from District Ten, who is waiting for him to finish self-destructing, keeps looking at the clock and nearly jumps for joy when the signal to end the interview is given. Jonnathan rises from his chair and stalks off of the stage to join the others of us who have finished.

We wait quietly until the boy from District Twelve finishes his interview and then prepare to return to the stage as a group. This is the last time that the audience will see us all together until the Games start and the Capitol cameramen make sure to get group photos of us while we are all still in one piece and breathing.

The same will not be able to be said in twenty-four hours. By then many of us will be dead.

We finally depart to return to our stylists to remove the costumes. I hurry to change out of the gown and, once we are back in our quarters, dive into a hot and foaming shower. I savor the hot water that seems to be endless because I know that soon I will be denied it. Food is another luxury that I intend to enjoy while I can. I have no intention of eating until I am sick but I do plan on going to bed with a full stomach. There will likely be no doing that once we enter the arena.

When my shower ends I step out to be air dried but still wrap myself in the fluffy towel that waits for me. My hair is also dried and I use a comb and brush to style it to my normal appearance.

A bowl of chicken slices breaded with grain tempts me and I nibble on piece after piece, washing it down with cold water, until my stomach says no more. Still naked, I rise to drop the towel and slip on a gown before crawling onto the bed and allowing it to embrace me before lapsing into a deep and restful slumber.

Tomorrow, a day filled with violence, terror and death, will come soon enough. Until then all that I want is what I have and then I will have to find out what else I can get.


	9. Nine

Once again a gentle shaking rouses me and I hesitantly open my eyes. Daylight is beginning to filter into my room and I know that morning has come. Groaning, I slip out of bed to strip and then get into the shower. After the one last night I really do not need one but there will no warm showers, or showers of any kind save rain, in the arena.

There will be no dawdling today, however, very soon Pietor will be here to escort me to the arena. I have only time for what I am doing and perhaps a light breakfast. I have only time for what I am doing and not much else. The shower is cut short and I step out to dry. I have a robe on and am brushing my hair into place when my bedroom door whispers open and Pietor steps into the room.

He steps forward to hand me a plain, simple dress and watches while I slide it over my head. Then he finally speaks.

“We need to get moving, Jessa. It is almost time to get to the roof.”

“The roof?” I question.

“You and I will be transported to the arena by a hovercraft,” he explains. “While we are on board you will have a tracker injected into your arm so that the Game makers can keep tabs on you.”

“Arniss took my token,” I announce suddenly, “do I get it back?”

He nods quietly and reaches into his pocket to pull out my headband. It vanishes back into his pocket and I look at him questioningly.

“I can only let you have it back when we get to the launch room. It took a lot of talking but they agreed to let you have it. You impressed them with it and, since you won’t start the Games with a pocket full of rocks it is rather harmless right now.”

“Thank you, Pietor.”

“Arniss had a lot to do with you getting it back,” he states as we leave the room. “He talked you up for a long time.”

“Can you thank him for me?”

“Yes.”

I nod as the elevator door whispers open and we step onto it to be whisked up to the roof. When we arrive a hovercraft is suddenly there. A ladder is lowered to me and I reach forward to begin the climb, only I never get to.

As soon as I have gotten my hands and feet in place I am paralyzed without warning. The ladder rises, with me glued to it, into the underside of the machine and I find a medical technician waiting for me with a strange looking syringe.

“Relax,” she says, as if I can relax my muscles still being paralyzed. I feel the sharp sting of the needle in my arm and then suddenly can move.

“Was that the tracker that you injected me with?”

“It was,” she answers as she checks a monitor. “It is in there and it is working perfectly.”

“That makes me happy,” I respond, “at least you will not have to put another one in. That hurt like hell.”

“ _We never told you that it would feel good,"_ she responds with a snarky tone before turning and walking away.

Pietor joins me and guides me to a seat as the vehicle turns and begins the trip to the arena. I feel glad that I had not been able to eat breakfast and Pietor was fortunate as well. My stomach was suddenly queasy and he realizes this. He hands me a small pill and a container of water.

“It will help, believe me.”

I pop the pill into my mouth and then use a sip of water to help it on its way.

“Do you feel any better?”

I manage a nod and it is a truthful one. The pill has worked wonders as my queasiness vanishes. I sip more water and am beginning to enjoy the ride, although I am not looking forward to what is going to happen shortly after we arrive at our destination. A look out through the window reveals an aerial view of the Capitol and I gasp at the beauty of it in the light of the early morning sunlight. Everything is golden hues and I can just make out figures on the streets as citizens hurry about. They have things to do before they glue themselves to their televised entertainment. The thought of this brings me back to reality and I hurry to turn my back to the windows. I suddenly lurch away from Pietor as my stomach is emptied onto the floor below me.

I had been admiring a city in which the people cannot wait to possibly see my death.

A hand gently caresses my back and I nod gratefully to Pietor.

“You have a case of the nerves,” he states quietly. “It happens to a lot of tributes.”

Taking in a deep breath, I nod my understanding. I am afraid to open my mouth for fear of something other than my voice exiting it.

We ride quietly for a while and then I realize that the window are being blacked out. Apparently the Capitol does not want us to see where many of us will die in just over an hour.

I wait quietly in my seat as a crew person walks by, carefully stepping around the mess that I had produced, to prepare the ladder for use. The forward motion of the hovercraft slows perceptibly and I know that we have arrived at our destination.

The hatch that we ascended through opens again and we rise to walk to it. A look out through it shows only a flat landing area and some doors set into a blank wall. Even now, when I can do nothing about what is coming, I am denied any information about my potential destiny. The crewman nods and I step forward to grasp the ladder and once again experience the unpleasant sensation of being unable to move of my own will.

The trip down is quick and a Peacekeeper reaches out to take my arm, possibly to steady me but more likely to prevent me from bolting. The ladder ascends as we watch and then lowers to allow Pietor to join me.

He does not get his arm grabbed.

We walk to an open door and then into the catacombs beneath the arena. When the Games have ended, when twenty-three children have died above us and the ragged survivor is crowned, these somber corridors will be transformed into a tourist attraction where the citizens that travel to them can “live” what we tributes have.

They can examine artifacts that we used and left behind. Tours are given to allow them to see where we fought, bled, died or just wished that we were home. They can even take part in reenactments of their favorite parts of the Games. This is called entertainment and I blanch as I see the crewperson from the hovercraft hurry by with a clear container of some liquid. They are even going to keep what my stomach could not keep in.

Already I have given them an artifact, likely the staff that I used in training will serve as one as well.

Pietor leads me through the corridors of the vast complex until we reach a door with a simple sign on it.

**Female**

**District Nine**

It opens before us and we enter what may be the last room that I ever see.

There is a small bathroom in case I need it in one corner, no door for privacy of course. A couch sits along one wall and a table with containers of food next to it. Several bottles of water sit on it as well and I wish that I could take one with me when we enter the arena but there is not much of a chance of that.

The clothing that I will wear in the arena hangs from a rack and a styling chair sits in front of a mirror.

Last of all, and most ominous, is the clear glass launch tube that will lift me up to the arena.

“They do believe in irony,” I remark. “Most people believe that when they die that they want to ascend to heaven. I am going to ascend to possibly die, maybe they are just trying to cut out a step.”

“What do you mean?”

I smile briefly before answering.

“I will already started the trip to heaven.”

He nods silently as he watches me undress and then hands me my uniform. I hurry to cover myself, being suddenly modest in front of a person who has seen my nude body many times.

Dressed, I settle into the chair to allow him to finish my preparation. I gasp with pleasure as he pulls my headband out of his pocket and allows me to put it on. Then he steps back to give me a final look over.

I am ready for the Hunger Games.

Now I look at my clothes. Comfortable pants fit my form above socks and boots that seem to have been made specifically for my feet. The boots are incredible, made for what is ahead to give me every chance that they can. A blouse covers my upper torso and is made to prevent constricting movement. Finally a jacket with a large 9 applied to one sleeve goes over the blouse.

“You will be grateful for that jacket, Jessa. The material will keep your body heat in, a blessing on cold nights or when it rains.”

“Thanks.”

I sip water and eat a few small nibbles of fruit. This ends when a female voice makes an announcement.

“Tributes are to report to their launch tubes. We are at two minutes until Game.”

Another sip of water is taken and then I turn to the waiting tube. I turn to glance at Pietor, who nods at me, before walking to the tube. I have no more than entered it when the door slides closed, sealing me inside. A noise above me makes me look upward into the blue sky above the arena. Smells reach my nose as the pad below me begins to rise, taking me upward.

I am certain that already the citizens are watching and are nearly rabid with anticipation of what is coming. Although I cannot hear them I know that millions of throats are screaming with excitement.

Blood is soon going to be spilled and people that they have never met are going to die.

I can see it now, the arena where I will have to fight. The Cornucopia, filled with what all of us need but only a few will have, waits as the timer counts down. There are several items scattered on the ground in an expanding pattern.

The tributes wait on their pads and I can see Jonnathan, who is nearly hyperventilating, almost ready to leap off of his pad early.

It would certainly end some of my problems if he did.

This arena looks a lot like what I had seen in my dreams. The trees, the lake and the buildings are all present. Luckily I bring my attention back to where it needs to be.

“Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One.”

The gong goes off as Claudius Templesmith makes his announcement.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Sixty-Seventh Annual Hunger Games have begun.”

I leap off of my pad as I race for the pack that my attention has settled on. Already struggles over equipment have commenced and I see at least one tribute, a boy, lying on the ground while his killer straddles him as he slashes with a knife. The strap of the pack is seized and then slung over my shoulder as I turn to flee the area and the increasingly deadly violence.

A girl running headlong at me with a knife in her hand suddenly staggers then falls face first onto the grass, an arrow in her back. There is a rushing sound and I move just in time to have and arrow merely graze my arm. I, not really thinking about the situation, hurry forward to grab the knife that the dead girl had dropped before reversing course and trying to get out of the bloodbath alive.

The trees are close and I make for them while behind me I can hear the sounds of fighting and the screams of the wounded or dying.

The dead make no sounds.

A terrible scream reaches my ears and I look back to see the archer being dragged down by a boy with a horrible curved weapon in his hand. I do not wait to see what happens but I know that someone is about to die, and likely horribly.

The branches of the trees close around me and give me a moment to get my bearings before I hurry away from the carnage behind me.

I have lost track of Jonnathan and this is not a good thing. He will, if he survives the bloodbath, be hunting for me. The brush ahead of me thickens which is both good and bad. It would provide a temporary refuge while I tend to my injury but could also make a wonderful place to launch an ambush from.

Approaching it carefully, I take note of the surrounding vegetation. It has not been disturbed, no broken branches or torn off leaves to indicate that someone has been here before me. I take in a deep breath and then push forward as carefully as I can to avoid leaving evidence of my passing. Satisfied that, for now, I have an acceptable hiding spot I remove my jacket to examine the wound that I have sustained.

The arrow that grazed me has cut a small gash in my upper left arm. It is not enough to incapacitate me but it is deep enough to make me leave a blood trail if it is not dealt with. Using the knife, I cut part of the lower front of my blouse free. It makes a passable bandage as it staunches the blood flow.

At the moment I hear nothing to be concerned about and so decide to take a quick look into the pack. I see a water bottle and quickly pull it out only to see that it is empty. As disappointed as I am at this development I also had somewhat anticipated it. I slide the bottle back into my pack and the inch out of my refuge. No sooner had I begun to do this when the cannon starts going off. Evidently the bloodbath at the Cornucopia is over and the dead need to be tallied.

I listen as the shots announce the deaths of tributes. Counting along I realize that ten are dead, but which ten? We will have to wait to learn this information but I cannot afford to sit idle. The survivors of the bloodbath, no doubt many of the Careers will be among them, will start to spread out to try to find victims. Some of them will almost certainly come this way which makes me consider leaving them a calling card.

Using the knife I quickly dig a hole large enough for a foot to drop into and deep enough to come almost halfway up to a knee. Several stout sticks are quickly sharpened and then placed into this hole, the sharpened ends point up while the other ends are securely anchored. I position several more spikes in the sides of the hole pointing down at an angle. Someone stepping into this trap will impale their foot on the spikes at the bottom while those along the sides will devastate flesh. Attempting to draw the leg and foot upward without first dealing with the spikes along the side will create more trouble.

This cruel trap was used during the war by people who had few actual weapons. It was so effective that many Capitol soldiers refused to enter areas where they might encounter them.

I lay several sticks across the top of the hole and then sprinkle leaves over those to conceal the trap. A nearby plant with shallow roots is transplanted to add more camouflage. Satisfied, I grab my things and hurry away. I do not want to be here if someone falls victim to this insidious affair. I also had managed to find a few stones that might make adequate sling stones until I find proper ones.

I move away after making certain that I look for something that will serve as a landmark. Nothing would be worse than falling victim to my own trap. A strange tree becomes a landmark and I make haste to leave the area.

The floor of this forest is easy to navigate but I am concerned. I am seeing trees in this area that I should not. There are trees and plants in growing numbers that one would find on the edges of a swamp or marsh. While it means water in abundant supply, it can also mean creatures that I wish to avoid. Rattlesnakes that were fairly common in the fields are bad enough, but swamps are normally home to not only snakes but also large reptiles and other predatory animals.

I hear a strange cry that can only have come from some animal. Slowing my advance I see nothing but this does not help my confidence. An animal, possibly some sort of Mutt, is ahead of me. My dreams had been full of Mutts, both feline and insect, and I really am not ready to have to deal with an attack at the moment. The noise comes again and brings me to a halt while I search the area with my eyes. Nothing, threatening or benign, reveals itself.

Could this be a trap set by the Game makers? They have done this in past games and many times it has not ended well for the tribute. I want to leave the area but I can hear the sound of moving water and, as long as there is Iodine in my pack it can be purified. Need for water outweighs my fear and I begin to move forward again. A strange looking bird startles me as it lands on a tree branch that is nearby and I appraise it. About the size of a large chicken and covered with feathers that allow it to blend in with the surroundings it represents a possible meal for me. The creature eyes me as I watch it and then tilts its head back before emitting the strange cry that I had heard before.

And that is when I see something that is terrifying.

Its mouth is lined with what look like dozens of sharp looking teeth. Discretion IS the better part of valor and I decide that perhaps this meal might make one out of me, especially if it had friends. It throws its head back once again to screech while it watches me and I hear an answering call. This situation is starting to worry me, especially when it starts to advance and I hear movement as well as other screeches that seem to be getting closer.

I pull my headband free while pulling one of the rocks that I had found while digging out of my pocket. The stone drops into the sling while I watch this predator advance. The moment to strike comes suddenly when it abruptly hurtles at me, wailing as it comes. I release the stone and watch as it collides with the head of the animal. An immediate effect takes place as it takes the impact and is thrown off of its feet to roll over and over in a mass until it stops.

Now I advance, with the knife drawn, on my fallen adversary. A moment later the head is severed and I am picking up the carcass. The stone that I had used lays nearby and I pick it up as well. Thinking that a use for it might exist, I carefully pick up the head and wrap it in some large leaves before sliding all of this into my pack.

The incoming screeches have stopped but I know that I am being watched. I want to leave, but I need water and it is only steps away. Throwing caution aside I walk to what appears to be a running pool of water, pull out my bottle and then fill it. All the while I am keeping an eye out for trouble. Somehow I am fortunate and nothing appears to attack me. The cap goes onto the bottle and I make haste to leave the area.

Jessa is a grateful girl when I finally manage to put distance between me and the outlying areas of the swamp. I have something that may serve as dinner as well as water. Now all that I need is a safe place to make a fire and cook my meal.

While I walk I remember that swamps frequently have small islands in them. Those islands usually have trees that can be used as shelter. As much as I dislike the idea, I know that this is likely my best bet.

I turn to make my way back to the swamp and finally encounter the squishy ground that is around it. In the distance I can see what I seek, what appears to be an island populated by large trees. Cautiously I pick my way through the swamp until I am on the island.

It is not a terrible place like I had imagined that it would be and I find a concealed area to build a fire. I search the pack and am disappointed to not find fire making tools. I will have to resort to using dry sticks to produce what I need.

Sticks, even dry ones, are plentiful and I am soon laboring to build enough heat and friction to produce a fire. It is just as I am about to give up when I see the beginnings of a fire, smoke. Quickly I gather dry leaves next to this area of the sticks and almost cheer when a tiny flame appears. Working carefully I feed the flames and finally have a passable campfire that cannot be seen from a distance. I add wood to the fire before pulling out the water bottle and, most importantly, a vial of Iodine. Carefully, so as to not waste any, I add the purifying liquid to my water. After sealing both caps I turn back to the pack.

There are a few apples, a package of meat strips and a tin of crackers in the pack. I also find a reflective blanket and length of rope that will be useful. These items, along with the knife, represent all that the Capitol has given me to use.

The bird gets my attention next and it is swiftly cleaned and gutted before being examined carefully. The meat looks and smells good and there were no unpleasant findings while it was being butchered. I skewer the bird before placing it over my fire and then turning my thoughts to the head.

Even dead it is frightening, I examine the teeth and find that they can be carefully removed. I pile them on a leaf for possible later use.

My meal is smelling wonderful and I know that I need to look for a place to sleep. The trees are the logical choice because I will not only be concealed, but also out of the reach of ground predators.

I am lifting the spit off of the fire when I hear another screech. This one, however, clearly came from a human throat. An instant later I hear the cannon and know that another tribute has died. This means that eleven are dead.

Only twelve more stand between myself and victory. I wonder if Jonnathan is among the living.

I grab the spit once again and then climb the tree that I have selected. There is an enormous crotch in which I can actually stretch out without fear of falling while I sleep.

An experimental taste of the meat renders no ominous aftereffects and I find that it is actually quite delicious. Purified water helps each bite and I recline against a branch while I eat and wait for the tally of the dead.

The wait is not long. The anthem begins, followed by the eagle and then the faces of those whose Game has been brought to an end. The first face stuns me as the boy from Two appears, a Career dead already. Next is the girl from Four as well as the boy from that district. Districts Five and Six also lose both tributes. District Seven’s boy is shown next and is followed by the boy from Eight.

My hopes have risen only to be dashed as the next tribute to be shown is the girl from Eleven, the donor of my knife. Finally the last face to appear belongs to the boy from Twelve. As his face vanishes the eagle reappears until the music ends. Then the night sky shows again and I lean back.

Jonnathan is still alive and on the hunt. If he is not with a pack then he is one of the hunted. If he is with a pack there will not be much time before they turn on him and he becomes one of the hunted.

Until then, I am safe, fed and warm and I will use this place as a camp until I either find something better and safer or am forced to move on. One thing is certain, though, and that is the fact that I am in this Game to stay.

And that Jonnathan is on the hunt for me.


	10. Ten

I wake up the next morning to the screeching of the birds and voices.

“Do you see anything?”

“Nothing,” comes the answer. “If someone is in there they can have this place. I really don’t want to fight over a swamp, especially with those bird things everywhere. What do you think that they are?”

“Some sort of Mutt, I guess. Whatever they are they have nasty looking teeth. Getting into a fight with a pack of those things would not be a bright idea, especially if you are alone.”

I hear a response but cannot make it out. Now I can see them, however, it is Saber and the boy from District Three. From where I am I watch as they poke around for a while and then, apparently deciding that there is nothing worth taking, move on out of sight.

Obviously the birds had been a part of their decision to move on. The fact that I had killed one of their number from a distance has them wary of me and that implies at least some instinctive intelligence for self-preservation.

I examine the remaining meat from last night’s meal and discover that it is already beginning to spoil. It gets a quick toss and lands in the water, something that creates an immediate response. The water comes alive as residents of the swamp converge on what I had not wanted. I see several large reptiles emerge as the contest each other for the refused meat. It is terrifying to watch as I imagine being what those teeth are sinking into.

A gulp of water is swallowed as I consider my options. 

I can stay here, in a tree in the swamp, out of sight but in constant danger of being eaten. Or I can strike out and search for new shelter.

Both options have good and bad points. At least here I have a constant source of water and food that can be obtained. The problem is my large, and not so large, neighbors which would love to use me as nourishment. If I decide to move on I need to find something defensible and with a ready source of water, both of which I need quickly.

At least now I have what I need, but I also know that the Game makers will not permit me to hide out here until the end. Sooner or later, they will arrange some catastrophe that will force me to move on. If I am out and about in the open they might leave me alone as long as I am not ducking every chance of a fight. At some point I am going to have to do more than grab a knife, dig a trap and kill a Mutt.

The creatures in the water have dispersed which makes it safe to climb down. I need more water as well as more sling stones and food. An apple is devoured and then followed by water before I begin to risk a descent from the tree. A fall would be disastrous, but discovery by either one of the large reptiles, a pack of the birds or one of the Careers would very probably be fatal.

Once I am safely down, I fold my blanket and then stuff it into my pack. A quick side trip to the pool fills my water bottle before I add the Iodine drops. These tasks done I set about looking carefully for rounded, smooth stones for my sling. This close to water it is a good bet that I will find some and I am not incorrect. I find several of adequate size and weight to add to my supply and it is not long before I am making my way out of the swamp.

The pair of Careers have left an easy trail to follow and, risking discovery, I decide to do so. My lighter weight minimizes the evidence of my passing and I am able to quickly get close to them without being spotted. Saber is armed with a heavy sword but nothing that I can see with any range, he would prefer to get in close with an opponent. The boy from Three, however, has what I fear the most, a bow. He could strike from a distance. I know that if I get a chance to strike that this threat must be removed. While I do not prefer to use a bow one would be nice should I have to fight from more range than the sling provides.

He needs to be removed from the game and, should I get the opportunity, Saber needs to go with him.

My decision made, I drop a stone into the sling that I now carry. They have separated somewhat and I have to wonder if they are aware of my presence and are preparing to hit me from both sides. The thick vegetation provides cover for me as they move ever closer to where I want them to be.

The boy from Three suddenly slings the bow over one shoulder to carry it easier through the brush. Saber is several meters away and ahead of him as I begin my attack approach. They are both making enough noise that silence from me is not necessary. My target, apparently still unaware that I am stalking him, steps into the spot that I want him in and becomes aware of me as I launch the stone. He hastily reaches for the bow and almost has it free just as the stone strikes him in the temple. My target staggers to one side, blood pouring down the side of his face from the wound, and falls out of sight.

A second stone, this one meant for Saber, leaves my sling and strikes him in the forehead as he turns at the sound of the half-scream emitted by his ally. Tripping and falling backwards at the same time, Saber disappears from my view with a splash. Obviously he has fallen into a pool of water and I can only hope that he is unconscious and will drown.

I close cautiously on the boy from Three and find him still breathing but obviously near death. Working fast I seize the bow and quiver of arrows as well as his pouch. Then I hurry to disappear back into the depths of the vegetation as Saber emerges from where he has fallen. He is almost to his downed comrade when I hear the cannon. 

I have scored something that I had not desired to, a kill.

Having no desire to contest Saber at this time I quickly move away. I do not believe that he ever truly saw me and want to keep it like that. Whatever had killed his partner had come from a distance, especially when he himself had also been hit. This long range, and silent, strike would give him something to consider especially when he realized that the bow and quiver of arrows were gone. Whoever had taken out the archer now had an incredibly dangerous weapon that could strike silently and well out of range of immediate retaliation.

As I hurry away I am certain that the cameras are watching me and the audience was wondering why I had not killed Saber when I had possessed the chance. 

Thoughts of potential sponsors suddenly withdrawing their support because I had spared him assail me and I begin to reconsider my choice. I can still catch up to him and strike with either the sling or my newly acquired bow. Either way I can remove an incredible threat that might have figured out my approximate hiding place.

Before I realize what I am doing I have turned around to track him down. He is injured, I know that, and I need to prevent him from bringing back help. Moving as silently as I can I follow the trail once again and soon arrive at the place where the boy from Three had died.

A blood trail leads to the spot and then away from it. Saber is obviously hurt far worse than I had believed and likely suffering. Now there is no malice in me. I need to seek him out and put him down to eliminate the pain that he is in. The trail is easy to follow even though it leads me deeper into the swamp.

A sudden violent outburst of screeching explodes ahead of me accompanied by a shriek that can only be human made. I hurry forward, a stone at the ready in my sling and soon arrive at the scene of battle.

Saber has been ambushed by a flock of the birds and is doing his best to fight them off. Several of the predators lay dead or dying in the water or on the soggy land around him and he has managed to draw his sword. While he turns this way and that as he slashes at his tormentors he suddenly spots me, and the bow that I have slung.

“You,” he screams as he tries to fight free of them to get to me.

But these birds, drawn by the scent of blood, are relentless and already he is bleeding from several bite sized injuries. As quickly as he throws off or kills one of them another hurries to its place. I can only watch, horrified, as an ear is ripped away from his head and swallowed whole by the predator.

He is so fixated on me, and I on him, that neither of us see the enormous horror that has also been drawn by blood.

Saber is just managing to get away from the birds when his rearmost leg is seized and he is jerked backwards. He screams as enormous teeth tear into his leg and begin to drag him backward and into deeper water. Somehow he manages to turn to begin an attack on the snout of the creature that is pulling him to what will no doubt be a terrible death. Again and again, he strikes with the sword opening wounds in his attacker but his efforts are hampered by a renewed assault from the birds.

I had wanted to kill him, but the sight of his pain and suffering digs deep into me. His struggles are weakening and he has lost the sword, it flying out of his hand and vanishing into the water, as he desperately fights on two fronts. Sensing impending victory, the alligator lurches backwards and Saber screams again as he is dragged under the surface.

Beneath the surface the huge reptile begins to drag his victim into deeper water before beginning to roll in an effort to drown Saber. I can see this and can only watch the scenario play out. The birds are beginning to regroup to begin an assault on me and only cease when two of their number are taken out by the stone from my sling. Bunched as they are, the shot had been an easy one and another stone is in place as I back away. I am still backing when I hear a scream and see a horribly torn up Saber resurface for a moment before vanishing again in water that is turning red.

He reappears again and somehow drags himself out of the water, only to be set upon again by the birds. Sensing an easier quarry than I, the predatory Mutts swarm over him and my sling is useless to stop them. Several die at my hands but they continue the assault.

It all ends suddenly when the gator resurfaces and drags not only Saber but several of the birds under the water as well. There is a bit of violent turbulence but it quickly ceases as blood erupts to the surface in a fast spreading stain.

Then I hear the cannon and know that he is dead. I hurry to escape as the birds begin to tear at the remains of their own dead.

I know that there will be a hovercraft sent to retrieve the remains of the unfortunate Career and wonder how they will manage to get the reptile to relinquish his prey. 

That, I decide is up to them and I am grateful that the chore is not left to the tributes.

This is swiftly becoming a female dominated game. Already far more boys have died and, remembering a previous Game where this had occurred, this will make an interesting and violent thing to observe. The girls in the Game that I remember turned incredibly vicious once the boys were almost gone. The deaths became incredibly bloody as the female tributes pulled out all of the stops to win. In the end of that year’s Games the final two tributes, both female Careers, slugged it out with vicious weapons that they had put together out of anything that they could get their hands on. The close in fight had been bloody in the extreme and only ended when one had pummeled her opponent into a bloody mass on the ground, something that was almost unrecognizable as having been a person.

I wondered if it would be the way in these Games as it was in my dreams.

As nice as it was to have easily obtained water and a good place to use as a camp perhaps it would be best to scout out other options.

My trip out yields several sling stones. These are welcome replacements for those which had been expended. Tonight, those tributes remaining will see that not one, but two, Careers have been eliminated and both of them male.

All of the male Career tributes have been knocked out of the Games within two days.

Time also makes me uncomfortably aware that I am being tracked. A glance behind me reveals nothing but the sounds are unmistakable, the bird Mutts are on my trail. I hear their screeches from time to time and know that, like hunters tracking a large animal, they will try to herd me to a place to more easily make their kill. I have no intent on allowing this and ready a stone in my sling to deal with a scout that has been spotted. 

I could easily ignore him as he is not a real threat, just an annoying reminder that they are after me. But, when they do decide that the time is right, I do not want him behind me to attack my defenseless rear arc. He has been ducking in and out of sight among the leaves as he tries to distract me off of my objective, a large tree that does not grow in the swamp and clearly marks the outer boundary.

He is just popping out of the brush when I see it, a large, coiled snake that is easily ten feet long. It is ahead of me and they are closing from the other side as my sling flashes and a stone hurtles toward the scout. He takes the strike in the face as those behind me charge forward, the snake shoots forward in a lunge and I drop suddenly to allow the serpent to pass harmlessly over me.

Several screeches of alarm sound as the snake collides with its unintended prey, but it has other problems. My knife has cut a deep fissure in its underside, freeing blood and internal organs, and the reaction is instant. The mortally wounded creature’s attack breaks the resolve of the Mutts, which flee back into the swamp. I hurry to get clear of the wildly gyrating animal while also watching for incoming threats. This is not the kind of fighting that I am ready for and I waste no time in putting as much distance between the dying creature and myself as I can.

Land that is nowhere near as soggy begins to pass under my feet and I come to realize that I have traveled a respectable distance. I had thought that the Careers had come from this direction and maybe they had, but I see no evidence of anyone around me at all. The landscape around me is foreign and I turn slowly in a circle until I face my starting point. The area that I am in is apparently barren of other tributes and nothing could please me more.

As I move on forward, a rabbit scurries away and this gives me hope. There is green vegetation here and this means a water supply, not to mention food. If can find a defendable shelter my chances are incredibly better. My head stays on a swivel as I walk, especially when I see smoke from a campfire in the not so distant East. 

This means that I have neighbors and that can mean trouble.

Buildings that I remember from before look in the distance and I no reason to assume that I could occupy them unopposed. They could be the domain of another tribute or perhaps more Mutts, any of which I want to avoid. My attention has fixed on a point that I wish to investigate when the report of a cannon startles me. Someone has lost their chance of surviving the Games and now that loss has been announced for all to hear.

A familiar looking formation of rocks appears before me and I slow to make a careful approach. What makes this place attractive to me will also make it welcoming to my opponents. 

When I make it to the base of the formation without being attacked I relax somewhat, but not completely. An assault can still happen and I need to be prepared for it.

As it turned out, I was correct in thinking in this way.

I am beginning to move up the stones when a sudden shadow launches itself at me with a hellish snarl. The weight of my opponent hurls me backwards to land onto my pack, bow and quiver of arrows. I desperately shove my forearm up to stave off the slavering jaws that are trying to rip out my throat. A shriek of pain escapes me as teeth sink into my arm and I look up in horror at what is trying to kill me.

A somewhat human Mutt hangs above me as its elongated jaws try to rip my arm free of its socket. Long claws project from what appear to be hands and try to quell my struggles. Eyes that are far from human glare down at me and I am reminded of what I have been told about the power that the eyes of snakes seem to have over their prey, the power to paralyze.

My free arm ineffectively pummels at this monstrosity above me and I understand that very soon they may fire a cannon for me. In all probability the citizens of District Nine are already saying goodbye to another tribute and preparing to send a crew to begin digging a new grave.

The creature frees my injured arm to make another lunch at my face and I cringe as horrible smelling saliva drips onto my features. My uninjured arm, exhausted from its worthless assault on the creature, flops back against the ground and strikes something hard and narrow. Although it does not register automatically in my mind my hand seems to know what to do.

Without conscious thought I seize the item that my hand has impacted and ram it upward into the descending maw.

Unprepared for this assault the creature staggers backward and then topples off of me as the arrowhead rips through the vulnerable flesh of its throat. Loud and high pitched screams echo as it thrashes about and stains the ground with gout after gout of noxious blood.

Injured as I am I have no intention of pressing the attack, I am too busy trying to get away. I back into a defensible crevice as I claw for my knife. As it turns out, it was a good idea as the creature manages to free the arrow from its throat and then lunges at me.

I brace myself as best as I can to meet this attack and can only watch as the tip of my knife bisects my assailant’s eye.

The reaction is instant as the beast hurls itself backward, jerking the knife out of my hand and leaving me almost defenseless.

It lapses into a series of violent spasms and then falls completely still. A moment later the remains begin to collapse in upon themselves until only a bony structure covered by rapidly deteriorating skin remains. My knife falls free of the tissue that had held it to land on the earth with a dull thud.

Only once the remains have nearly fallen completely apart do I approach them to retrieve the knife. It is also at this time that I examine my own injuries and feel a tear run down my cheek as I take stock of the damage.

My arm is badly injured, blood is flowing freely from the wounds and my chances of winning the Games have vanished.

So have my chances of survival.


	11. Eleven

I have seen badly injured animals and tributes as they weaken due to blood loss and know the sequence by heart. Invariably it goes in the same way. As the blood leaves the body through the wounds every effort is made by the systems to ensure the survival of the vital organs. What this means is that the victim gradually loses consciousness until they become totally incapable of functioning. Death generally occurs very quickly and peacefully unless the subject goes into convulsions, either way the result is the same.

The sight of the blood pouring out of my injured limb brings the gravity if the situation home to me. I understand that I must deal with the bleeding or die. My headband is quickly pulled from around my skull and twisted tightly around the injury as I attempt to force the edge of the torn flesh back together. The material is quickly soaked through by the crimson liquid that belongs in my veins.

I grit my teeth as I pull the cloth tight around my arm while I also fight the urge to close my eyes. Going to sleep at this point means a cannon will be fired for me because, in the condition that I am in, there will be no waking up.

My vision is beginning to blur and I am becoming lightheaded as the blood loss becomes critical. I can feel my consciousness slipping and somehow feel no real fear of what is coming. It will all be so easy, all that I need to do is simply to let go and stop struggling against the inevitable.

Strange music begins to enter my ears and I wonder what part of the process of dying this is. A strange object enters my fading field of vision, all silvery and drifting downward like a parachute.

A parachute!

I force myself to snap back to a semblance of cognizance and begin to fully understand what I am seeing.

Some sponsor, or sponsors, has sent me something to help me in this hour of need. If I can make good use of this gift I might survive this ordeal. If course, it could also be something to ease the pain that still lingers and help me to pass with some dignity.

Either way it is extremely welcome and I try to utter an intelligible thank you.

My dying fingers manage to open the container to reveal a syringe. An instant later I have pushed the needle into my arm and the syringe has dispensed its payload. A tingling sensation, one that does not tell me whether or not it was successful runs through me. I see the needle withdrawn from my flesh and the instrument fall to be ground an instant before I follow it downward.

The impact of my backside with the earth does not register and, as my thoughts begin to abandon my mind, I have reason to believe that the person, or persons, who sent the syringe wanted me out of the Games and this was a neat way to do it. No mess was involved and no further blood was shed.

Hazy visions fill my sight and I catch movement as something approaches my helpless form. A familiar snarl frightens me and I understand that another of the humanoid Mutts has arrived while I lay defenseless.

At this moment all that I can do is to wait for the monstrosity to sink its teeth into me. It gets close enough for me to be able to see its face clearly. The Mutt leans in closer to sniff me, presumably to determine whether or not it wants to make a meal of me. Abruptly I see its nostrils widen and it recoils from me as one would when suddenly and unexpectedly encountering a horrible aroma.

It moves closer again only to repeat the retreat before loping away and vanishing. For some reason I had suddenly become unappetizing enough to make it decide to leave me alone.

The danger from the Mutt over, I manage to get onto my hands and knees to crawl back into the cubbyhole that had protected me earlier. Secure in this place I can only watch the faces that appear in the sky above me, although their significance is greatly diminished.

Far above me, amid the din of the anthem, I see the faces of Saber, the boy from Three and the girl from Seven as they take their turns in the sky above.

The night afterwards is lost to me as I lose consciousness, although I am vaguely aware that a Mutt came close enough to smell me and then decide that I was not a suitable meal. This apparently is the only thing that spared my life. I snuggle back against the stone to try to draw out the heat that it contains.

I awake the next morning weak from the loss of the blood and the after effects of the life-saving medicine. Opening my eyes is a struggle and summoning enough strength to move is almost impossible but somehow I am able to do it. I crawl from my refuge and painfully move farther up into the rocks where I find a cave that, while not the same one from my dreams, will provide adequate shelter. The opening for entry is just big enough for me to slip through and this makes me thankful. The Mutts are much larger than I and should not be able to squeeze in. I shift what stones that I am able to in an effort to make my doorway even smaller and thus my cave more defendable.

By the time that I finish I am bathed with sweat and trembling from fatigue. I crawl to the farthest corner of the cave where I wrap myself in the blanket from my pack. Water from my bottle helps to give me some of what I need as I eat part of another apple.

I know that I must build a fire and soon. The presence of fire will not only make me feel better, especially if I can find food, but will also dissuade visits from animals. Another serious attack at this time will likely end me. I have neither the strength nor the stamina to deal with another assault.

Somehow my memory recalls seeing small branches that could serve as fuel for a fire near the mouth of the cave. If I can get enough of them to sustain a viable fire I can possibly turn this Game around. The remainder of the apple is consumed while I consider how fortunate I was to have a sponsor send me the medicine.

It had been an incredibly generous gift.

Whoever my sponsor had been I evidently represent something to them to make the expense worth it.

Am I noteworthy enough to make someone care that much about my well-being and survival or have I amused them enough with my struggles that they wanted to see more?

Not caring which way it was, I muster strength enough to crawl to the entrance to peer out. I can see several pieces of wood, the fallen remains of a tree, the pathetic trunk of which still stands nearby.

Cautiously I move the stones once again and then, after being both certain that the area is clear of danger and also that my knife is ready for use, I slip out to hurry to where the wood lays. Although I am breathing hard by the time that I am finished the wood is soon transferred to the cave and I am doing what I can to free some of the remaining branches from the trunk.

My head remains on a constant swivel as I work. The last thing that I need to do is to be caught unaware. Persistence on my part is rewarded when a large section of the dead wood separates from the carcass of the tree and I throw my weight behind dragging it to my refuge. A small amount of loose bark is tossed to one side to serve as kindling.

I also liberate some small branches from a still living tree. Green wood will burn longer and this is useful in keeping a fire going.

A sharp noise to my left causes my head to snap in that direction. While nothing materializes to threaten me I decide to cut my foray short. I am too exhausted to be able to fend off an attack and have no wish to get that close to death again. The doorway to my cave beckons me and I make haste to disappear through it. The stones are soon back in place and I slip back to be out of sight should anyone or anything decide to look into the opening that is left. My heart beats insanely with fear as I wait for what I assume is the inevitable bestial arm tipped with dagger-like claws that reaches in to try to snag dinner.

There are the sounds of movement outside the cave but nothing happens to alarm me further. I hear no voices to tell me that my hiding place has been noticed. Finally the noises subside and I am confident enough to begin the process of building a fire.  
As the flames finally begin to grow and then light the cave I notice something that gives me a reason to hope.

The gleam of something liquid on the far wall makes me curious enough to investigate. I reach out to touch the liquid with my fingers and then bring my hand back to smell the sample. The clear liquid feels familiar and has no real aroma. Cautiously I taste it and am stunned when I realize that it is water.

In enough quantity that it fills a small basin on the cave floor to the depth of a foot or more, it is flowing fast enough to prevent depletion. With this discovery I now have added a supply of water to those things that I have. With the requirements of water, shelter and fire fulfilled all that I need to search for is food.

Although the birds can fill this requirement I would much rather seek out rabbits. They are fairly easy to find, I know that they are not poisonous and they do not hunt prey in packs. At least I know who will be eating who when we encounter each other.

I have seen rabbits and they seem to be abundant in the area around my cave. This, along with both the bow and my sling means that I should not go hungry.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I venture back outside to scan the area for close neighbors, whether Mutt or tribute. I also want to be certain that I am not broadcasting my own location via smoke.

My own smoke is sparse enough to be nearly unnoticeable but there is a great deal of smoke in the direction that the Cornucopia should be in. I can also make out smoke coming from close proximity to where the swamp it.

Movements here and there in the area around me betray the presence of small animals and I am able to see some of them darting here and there. This means none of the small Mutts are present, for the rabbits would be in hiding if they were. The rabbits’ presence spells out food for me. I can also make out larger, more sinister shapes that are very familiar and frightening. I remember these creatures with every movement of my arm.

Cautiously I steal a glance at the injured limb and am pleasantly surprised to see that some of the damage is healing itself.

“Thank you,” I murmur to my sponsor before covering the limb once again. As long as I do not re-injure my arm it should be more or less back to normal in a few days. Until then I need to guard it jealously to prevent any setbacks.

Until I can go hunting I need to be content with what remains in my pack. It will need to be husbanded carefully, there are no extravagant meals in my near future and I can only think back to what I had experienced in the Capitol with fond memories.

I am about to retreat back into the cave to enjoy what I have to eat when I notice movement. Pausing to prevent being noticed and thus possibly frightening off a meal, I wait. My patience pays off as a plump rabbit suddenly appears from under some brush.

A moment later the unfortunate mammal is tumbling after being hit in the head by a hastily loaded and launched stone. He is still writhing in his death throes when he is seized and hurriedly carried into my cave. Before long he is beheaded, skinned and gutted before being cut into pieces that are carefully spitted.

I do not need to wait long before the aroma of cooking meat fills my refuge and I find my mouth watering in anticipation. Not wanting to sit idle I refill my depleted water bottle and place Iodine droplets into it so there is no need to have to wait for water later. While my meal is cooking, I keep a careful watch on the entrance to my haven. The last thing that I need is to be ambushed by a hungry predator that has been drawn in by the smell of the rabbit meat.

My stomach growling, I reach forward to retrieve some of the meat and carefully bite into it staying mindful of burning my lips and tongue while I eat. Although I know that this is impossible, I feel that somehow the meat is recharging my weakened self almost instantly.

Perhaps now, with food in my belly and my arm on the mend, I will stand a chance at living a bit longer in the Games. Certainly I am not currently a match for any of the other tributes, unless I can hit them from long range with either my sling or the bow. My choice, of course, would be the sling as I am more comfortable with it and my arm has not yet regained sufficient strength to be effective with the bow.

Another piece of rabbit is eaten as I think about the tributes that I had had a hand in killing. While Saber had not died as a direct result of my attack he had been weakened because of it. Somehow I feel very guilty about his death even though I know that he would have killed me without thought or compunction had the situation been reversed.

I had no such guilt in the death of the boy from Three, his possession of the bow had made him a threat that needed to be eliminated or face death from a long distance if he had gotten the chance.

A noise catches my notice and I rise from where I am sitting to creep closer to the cave entrance. As I get closer I stay near the cave wall in an effort to retain some cover and the protection that it provides.

Suddenly a voice send chills through me.

“I know that it has to be you in there, Nine,” it snarls.

No noise escapes me as he taunts me.

“Were you the one that killed the boys from One and Three? I bet that the others were just as surprised as I was when it was their faces instead of yours in the sky. Of course, the girl that died was gratifying for me because I was the one that killed her.”

“You should have seen it, Nine, the way that she struggled as I wrapped my hands around her throat and then squeezed until I thought that her eyeballs were going to pop out of her skull. She died way too easy and I was kind of hoping that you would let me do the same thing to you.”

“I know that you will put up a better fight than she did. You might even be able to hurt me, but not badly enough to stop me from ending your life.”

I still do not answer and I can tell that the defiance is angering him. Perhaps I can get him angry enough to get careless and then make a critical error. If he does that then possibly I can do what I need to do which is to kill him before he kills me.

“Come on out of there and fight me, Nine. I know that you want me dead as much as I want to kill you. Neither of us can leave the arena if the other is still alive so it has to happen one way or the other. Come out now and face me so you can prove what you acted back in training. Prove that you are better at fighting than I am, that you can end my life before I can end yours.”

My refusal to answer is having the effect that I want it to. The tone in his voice has gone to menacing. He will attack soon, I know this, and I prepare for the assault. To get to me he must push through the constricted doorway and it is here that I can easily end this contest with the single arrow that I have drawn from the quiver.

A single shot through the head will end his Game and his life in a segment of a second and bring me one step closer to winning.

His voice is getting louder which brings the possibility of Mutts entering the confrontation. One of them could do the job for me and I know that many are in the area.

Suddenly a stone rockets into the chamber, obviously thrown in an attempt to injure me before the beginning of an assault. The arrow, already loaded into the bow, is drawn and I feel my arm struggling to complete the task. Muscles argue with my consciousness about the demands that I am making of them. He will enter soon and then I can kill him.

I could not have been more mistaken.

A loud noise fills my ears and then a cloud of dust, small stones and other debris erupts into my cave as the entry vanishes in a downfall of rocks. Jonnathan has somehow engineered a collapse of the large stones and now I am trapped.

“If you survived that I hope that you enjoy the time that you have left. You might live for a few days but I will not need to worry about you or anything that you can do ever again. You know, this is actually almost as satisfying as the girl that I killed. The only difference is that I do not get to watch you die. That is the only downside to doing this. I can only wait for your cannon to go off. Too bad that you cannot win, but do not worry. I will enjoy the gifts that my district will get and the Victor’s house that I will receive. The odds just never were in your favor.”

I hear his laughter as he walks away and cautiously move to the former entrance to try to peer out. Try as I might I cannot see much but I know that air can still enter the space that I occupy so I will not suffocate. I understand the reality that if I cannot free myself I will merely starve to death, which will take much longer but be equally unpleasant.

A sudden shriek makes me jump and I can only listen as the sounds of the fight reach me. They stop almost as they began and are replaced by a weaker version of the taunting voice that had been verbally assailing me only minutes before.

“Help me, Nine, please help me…”

There was likely more but it is cut off by a snarl from the Mutt that had attacked the male tribute. A sudden second shriek followed by the sound of a cannon firing tells me that some district has just lost a tribute. Unless I can get out of the trap that I am in that cannon will be fired again in a few days.

I lower the bow and return to my fire. Suddenly I am ravenous but I hold back from eating anything more than I already have. I have, through the acts of the now dead tribute, reentered the need to conserve food. A glance at the water pool reassures me as I can make out that it is still flowing. At least I will not die of thirst.

Returning to where the cave in occurred I move a smaller stone that I had shoved into place to make the opening smaller. A slightly larger space is revealed, larger but definitely not large enough to allow me to escape. A large cat might fit through the portal but I certainly will not. Clearly I have more work to do before I can leave the space that I am trapped in.

I reach through the opening to shove at a stone that sits on top of the one below it. It resists me for a moment before falling aside and then tumbling off of the pile. Now I have a sizable window that still is too small to allow me to leave.

At least I am not left with stones overhead that could fall and crush my skull if I dislodge the wrong rock below it. I carefully look inside the space to examine the other sections of the rock fall.

Many of the stones are large enough that, should they fall in the wrong direction, I could be trapped, injured or even killed.

Gingerly I push against a stone that is higher than I am comfortable with. It rocks a bit but does nothing more than that. This, of course, does nothing to lessen my fears and I watch the stone carefully as I examine the others. Here and there I can see daylight poking through the barrier and know that the sun has not yet set.

I fend off the urge to eat the rest of the rabbit. Although I cannot let it sit long enough to spoil, I also cannot eat it all at once. Eating all that I have might lead to vomiting it all up and being left with nothing at all. The few other edible items that I possess will not be enough to sustain me for long.

Tears threaten to erupt from my eyes and I do my best to stave them off. There is no one here to witness my anguish or feel sorry for me and the position that I am in. I cannot be sure that the viewers can see me and I really hope that they cannot. Although I would not pass up the assistance of a sponsor at the moment I also do not want to appear helpless. They have helped me once, I have no way of knowing if they will help me again. Needing help constantly to survive is a sure way to not get something when you are in dire need.

Once again I shove, this time with more than a bit of anger at my now deceased attacker. I find that shoving at the top of the stone produces more of a rocking motion. It has not yet settled to a stop when I am giving it another, more vigorous, push and am extremely pleased when it falls from its place to reveal a bit more open sky. The open space is nearly large enough for my passage but there is no way that one of the large Mutts will get through it. In a rush I might also have a hard time making it work. It is very obvious that I need to make the opening larger.

Actually the outside of the cave is now much more defendable, I realize as I think about it. Once I get inside my refuge most attackers will have a hard time coming in after me. During the time that they are trying to breach my defenses, while also dealing with a confined space, I will have ample time and opportunity to strike at them.

It is for this fact that I feel a very brief moment of gratitude toward the person who put me in this position. He, inadvertently of course, has made my defensive life much easier during his attempts to destroy me.

I am pushing another small stone aside when claws lash out at my exposed hand. My fingers are withdrawn just as swiftly as I hear the snarl that accompanies the strike. Falling backward to avoid the second attack I seize the bow and arrow before loading, aiming and firing in a series of awkward and halting motions.

A terrible screech answers what I know was a solid, and somewhat lucky, hit. I hear something large thrashing about outside and hesitantly inch forward to peek out at my opponent.

The Mutt lays sprawled on the ground, the arrow protruding from just below its mouth. I watch as it goes into severe tremors and then ceases movement a few seconds before its remains begin to collapse in upon themselves and then fall into nothing but an earthy smelling dust. The arrow which had destroyed the creature drops onto the ground as though it had landed there after a flight which had hit nothing.

Several of the rocks around the opening fall to the ground, dislodged apparently by the attacks, and then the convulsions, of the creature. I push against one stone that seems almost ready to topple and almost squeal with excitement when it falls aside, clearing an opening that is large enough for me to use easily.

I hurry out into the sunlight, after making certain that the coast was clear, to retrieve the arrow and look around at what is not a pretty sight. The area in front of the cave is soaked with what can only be blood and I wonder which male tribute it had belonged to.

If what he had said about killing the girl from Seven was true, now at least her killer had been removed from the Games. He would never receive all that he had bragged that he would. All that he would get from the Capitol was the simple wooden casket that all dead tributes go home in. His grave, in whatever district that he came from, would be of no more significance than any other.

Later that night my attention is glued on the sky as the anthem plays and the eagle appears only to be replaced by his face and his face alone. He had come from District Eleven. Another tribute gone, only nine of us remaining and only two of those are male, Jonnathan among them. It could very possibly turn into an all-girl fight and, if so, a particularly vicious event to watch.

With Jonnathan still in the game I need to be more on my guard than I had been. The attack had nearly killed me, not immediately but certainly, and would have if not for the intervention of the Mutt. It was probably the only time that I would be happy for the appearance of one of them.

Either way, whether I kill Jonnathan or he kills me, the Capitol and its Game makers may get the ratings extravaganza that they want after all.


	12. Twelve

When morning comes I feed my fire and eat a few pieces of the rabbit. Fortunately he was a good sized one and I have a nice meal to enjoy. Cooked rabbit, fresh water and an apple fill my belly and, once I have finished eating, I feel content enough to relax for a while.

Somehow I have come upon one of the rare moments in the game where there seem to be no issues. My belly is full I have shelter as well as fire and water and there is no Mutt screeching at the entrance of my refuge or tribute trying actively to end my life. The other tributes seem to be elsewhere and I have the time to consider that I may truly have a chance of winning this thing.

As I relax I begin to make plans for the day. Of course my water bottle will need to be topped off and its contents purified. I should also hunt for another rabbit to ensure that I do not end up going hungry. A scouting mission is also a good idea as I need to be sure where my opponents, the human ones anyhow, are located.

While I am out my home will need to be defended and several well placed stones will prevent something unpleasant from moving in. I remind myself that the Mutts are on the prowl and that I need to be ready to deal with them at a moment’s notice. The bow was effective against the one last night and it would be wise to try to deal with them at a distance if possible. I am aware that I have a finite number of arrows so I will need to retrieve expended ones if I get a chance to.

Sling stones are also an option although I have no clue about their effectiveness against the large abominations. For all that I know I may just anger one if I hit them with a rock. If I can knock them out and then get to them before they can regain consciousness I could use my knife to finish them. But what if I cannot get to them quickly? What do I do if they manage to rise before I can finish them? Would they defend a fallen member if they were hunting in a group? Or would they finish off an injured Mutt that appeared to be weakened as I had seen the birds do?

I know none of the answers to these questions and this worries me. These Mutts are just as dangerous as the other tributes that I face, if not more so. They do not worry about surviving to be the one that gets to go home.

With my plans made, I hurry to fill the water bottle and then place the needed Iodine into it. Next my blanket is folded before it and the water bottle are placed into my pack. The Iodine bottle is carefully tucked into the pouch meant for it. Then I gather my quiver of arrows and bow before slipping carefully out into the morning air.

Muscles in my back and arms argue with me as I push a number of stones into place to conceal the opening and then I hurry away from the site after scanning the surroundings for signs of life or movement.

Once again I can make out evidence of two campfires and take pains to avoid them. The buildings have my interest and I move toward them. Although memories of my dreams tell me that the place is inherently dangerous I need to determine what they hold. The fact that they exist here means that very likely another tribute will have made them into a base camp and that a fight might be brewing. There is also the possibility that the Mutts may use them as a lair and that I am walking squarely into an unwinnable, and survivable, confrontation. I keep to the cover of the brush as I approach and in a short time am standing in the shadows of the nearest structure before looking back towards my cave.

The walk has taken almost an hour and I can only just make out the rock pile where the cave is concealed. I am satisfied when I note no sign of smoke rising from my refuge. If I cannot see it from here then no one else can either. How the boy from Eleven had found where I have been holed up is a mystery.

Moving slowly and quietly, my head on a swivel and eyes constantly searching for danger, I carefully approach a ground floor window and then peek inside. Only an empty room greets me, no evidence exists that the place was ever inhabited. I slip into the structure through this portal and survey my surroundings. Only the footprints that I am leaving in the dust compete with those left by small animals. A doorway in a corner leads to a room that I have not seen yet. I draw an arrow from the quiver and nock it into my bow. There is no reason to not be prepared for what may be coming.

The next room is as empty as the first although it holds a door to the outside as well as stairs to the upper level. Another doorway leads to what is clearly a collapsed room. The stairs have my interest as the dust on them is undisturbed. I move slowly and carefully up them, mindful of the ominous creaking that they make under my weight. Falling through them is not what I have in mind and I have no idea if there is a level below them. I could be treading over a lair for the Mutts, or something even more unpleasant.

The stairs lead to a hallway on the upper level. A closed door occupies each side of the small space and, remembering that the room below seemed to be collapsed I turn to the door on that side of the hall.

It opens slowly to reveal a dangerously tilted floor that appeared that one could slide down and be deposited onto the street below. The front wall of the structure has collapsed into that street and presents no danger or cover. The ceiling and roof of that part of the structure hang precariously over open space as if waiting for a provocation or excuse to fall. I carefully pull the door closed although it will not latch.

I turn and am approaching the other door when I notice something that makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

There are footprints in the dust, footprints that were recently left and I have not yet been to this side of the hall. Someone else has been here recently and may not have left yet.

I reach out to gently touch the doorknob and find that the portal is latched. If I turn the knob further I will unlatch it and alert the occupant of the room, if there is one. Sweat trickles down my face as I prepare for what it about to happen.

There are two options for me here, retreat back down the stairs which will leave me open to a potential attack from behind, or open the door prepared to fight. I had not come all this way to run and this makes up my mind.

The knob is turned and I shove the door open hard, it banging against the wall behind it. I surge into the room expecting a target to expose itself or an attack to come, but neither of these things happen. There is nothing in this room and I step forward into the space puzzled. There are no other doors and both windows are intact and swollen shut. I look upward at a blank ceiling as I remember the homes of the “rich” people in Nine having what they called attics in the top of their homes in which to store their castoff belongings.

I walk back to the door that I had shoved open and look behind it. No knocked senseless tribute falls from behind the wooden door and I look down again at the footprints on the floor that brought me here. They enter the room and yet do not leave.

Trying to make sense of all of this I step into the footprints and follow them until they end. Nothing happens to give me any answers and I reach down with the arrow to use the point to scratch an X where the footprints cease while I consider the evidence.

Someone came into this room before me leaving fresh footprints. The door was closed and both windows are intact although swollen shut so how did this person get past me unseen?

I walk back to the doorway and push the door closed quietly before turning and following the footprints again. Stopping at the X reveals nothing and I look all around me for some answer to my confusion. Am I losing my mind, much to the amusement of the audience and the Game makers, or have I stumbled onto something significant that they do not want us to know about?

As I begin to decide that I need to move on I notice something that I have not seen before and I kneel to examine the small amount of light that is coming up through a widening gap in the floor. At first I wonder if the room’s floor is beginning to collapse into the lower level and am preparing to run for the door when stairs appear before me, stairs leading down. They appear to go down past the lower levels and now I realize that I have indeed found something of importance.

These stairs lead downwards and likely to an area below the arena.

I move quickly to begin the descent into an area where I am certain that the Capitol never expected a tribute to be. The stairs end at a door and I can only watch as the steps recede upward to vanish as the door at the top closes. I am in near darkness in a tiny room with a closed door before me. My hand reaches out to grasp a handle that it impacts and then turn it to open the door before me.

Before me is a corridor very much like the one that deposited me in the arena. But this one feels different, this one feels more secret. I walk slowly, arrow ready as I stay to the shadows. There are doors along the walls and somewhere ahead I can hear an alarm hooting. Ahead of me there is a sense of emergency and an urgency to handle the situation.

I shrink back into the shadows as two Capitol technicians hurry past, going in the direction that I had come from. I can hear their hurried whispers as they move towards their destination.

“How did she find it and what are we supposed to do if we find her?”

It does not take any amount of hard thinking to realize that they mean me. I have created a bit of a stir by being curious and thus have become a problem. They need to find me and deal with me, but they likely cannot kill me because I am still an active tribute in the Games. I glance down at my arm and think about the tracker that was implanted there. Does my being down here effect their ability to find me?

The sound of running feet approaching make me duck back farther and I watch as several Peacekeepers hurry in the direction that the technicians had.

 _‘Definitely looking for me,’_ I think to myself. _‘Evidently there are no cameras down here because they never considered the possibility of a tribute finding the way down here. The Capitol has to be a bit nervous, not to mention embarrassed, that someone slipped past their security. That must have been a maintenance passage that I came down. Since this area was never used for tributes they probably did not do much to prepare for something like this to happen.’_

“Code Red,” a voice blares suddenly, “all security personnel report to Sub-Sector Five. Security breach has occurred. Non-lethal restraint ordered, I repeat, non-lethal restraint ordered. All administrative areas sealed until further notice. I repeat, all security personnel to Sub-Sector Five to respond to security breach by tribute.”

I see a door ahead of me sliding shut and hurry to dash through it an instant before it seals.

_‘Okay, so now they know that I have been a bad girl and found my way into where they never expected me to be. If I look hard enough maybe I can find a way out of here and back to District Nine.’_

“Jessa Peaston,” a voice announces suddenly, “you have managed to do something that no tribute before you has. You have made your way below the arena. We are willing to allow you to return to the arena to finish the Games but that can only happen if you surrender yourself immediately to a security team.”

“If you do this you will be sent back into the Games with your memory altered. We cannot allow you to retain any memory of this part of the complex.”

“If you do not surrender the consequences will be far harsher. You will be quietly executed and the viewers shown edited footage of you dying in the collapse of the structure through which you entered. No provision will be made for your survival and return to the Games if we have to go to the trouble of looking for you.”

“Jessa Peaston, you have one minute to reveal yourself and surrender. There will be no further concessions made!”

The voice stops as the door that I came through slides back open. Knowing that they will do what they threaten to do I step out of my hiding spot just as several Peacekeepers appear. They hurry to surround me and I have no chance to speak before one of them reaches forward with a strange looking object.

Shocked into submission, I do not feel myself slump to the floor or being carried to a waiting trolley which whisks me to a detention medical area.

I awaken strapped to a chair in a room that I do not recognize. Several people in white uniforms are moving around the room and none turn to me when I speak.

“What are you going to do to me?”

The sound of my own voice reassures me, I have not been made into an Avox. At least they have left that part of my identity with me.

A door whisks open to reveal a tall man in white as well as a man whom I recognize immediately. President Coriolanus Snow enters the room flanked by two Peacekeepers and approaches the chair that I occupy.

“You created a bit of a problem for us, Miss Peaston. But, to be fair, while you did that you also did us a favor by revealing a weakness in our security. That weakness now lies strapped to a bed in a room nearby awaiting the procedures that will transform her into an Avox as well as wipe her mind of any sensitive information that she possesses. Her family will be quietly erased as well because punishment for crimes against the Capitol are harshly dealt with.”

“I am quite aware that you, Miss Peaston, have no family and thus the option of erasing your family does not exist. If we knew who your father was he could be erased but that would be pointless as he means nothing to you. Therefore we shall proceed with our original plans and erase your memories of this place before returning you to the Games.”

“Normally we would execute you but, as you have become a bit of a fan favorite and ratings are important to us you shall simply be forced to climb from a collapsed structure to resume the Games. Of course, your weapons and pack will be close by and easily retrievable because we want no evidence of your foray into these catacombs to be revealed.”

“No evidence, no punishment and all is well that ends well. You can continue as you have been with no ill effects and, as long as you do not find your way outside the arena again because that would be a certain death sentence, you might still win these Games.”

I am about to speak when he turns and leaves the room. The doctor next to me plunges a needle into my arm and I lose consciousness.

When I was very young, four years old, I fell into a fast running creek after a torrential rainfall. I remember screaming for Mama as I was swept under the surface and her answering cry of anguish. Under the nearly boiling with fury water I tumbled head over heels and was tossed this way and that as I bounced off of the stones under water. Only momentary instance when my head was above water allowed me to breathe and call for assistance. I was nearly lost, my consciousness collapsing into darkness when strong arms gripped me and pulled me to safety. No memory of being rushed back to my home existed but I had every memory of Mama wailing as she held me tightly with relief. My own sobs had echoed hers, especially after she paddled my backside soundly for being far too close to water that I had been told to stay away from. I had never forgotten this near death experience or the look on my mother’s face as she beat my butt in relief over the fact that I was still alive.

Now I have the feeling of nearly drowning again as the drug being pumped into my arm races through my system. I remember everything that happened but these memories are becoming harder to replay and somehow I am starting to remember other things.

I remember entering the structure and, after a downstairs exploration, making my way up the stairs to a short hallway. There I find two doors on opposite sides of the hall and turn to the door on the side of the house that seems to be collapsing. An overly curious person, I open this door and find that it leads to a room that has collapsed into the room below it and a dangerous roof above it. I evidently closed the door too hard because, as I turn to look at something that I noticed on the floor, I become aware of the fact that the ceiling above me is coming down as the wall holding the just closed door falls away into the street below.

The act of scrambling for safety causes me to tumble down the stairs to slam into the wall at the bottom. Above me the upper story is falling in upon itself as a torrent of debris surges down the stairs at me. I rise and rush through the somehow open front door just as something hits me from behind. I cry out as wreckage lands upon me and then covers me before I lose conscious thought.

What seems like days later, although likely only hours, I manage to open grit filled eyes and a mouth that seems as dry as a summer creek bed in District Nine. Mindful that I do not want to be found in this helpless condition by one of the Mutts or another tribute, I stretch out an arm and start to drag myself free of the shattered debris that holds my lower body and legs captive. My other arm gets into the act as I wriggle free of the trap and I am soon able to rise again onto wobbly legs. As I stand there, regaining what strength that I can I look back at the ruins of the building that has almost killed me.

Somehow my pack, quiver of arrows and bow are undamaged and I hurry to drag my water bottle out to drink a healthy swallow. By the position of the sun in the sky I can tell that I have been here for several hours and am very lucky that I was not discovered while helpless.

Thanking the odds I hurry away from this scene of near disaster and actually manage to get a rabbit on my way back to my cave. That night, after seeing that there had been no deaths, I eat my meal before securing the entrance to the cave and wrapping myself in the blanket. While my dreams that night are more or less peaceful they are also confusing.

I remember entering the structure and then going upstairs to explore, but somehow I had gone back downstairs via a strange and different staircase. There are also memories of familiar looking corridors, frantic activity and a personal encounter with a person that I have never met face to face, even though I cannot remember who that person was.

Finally, however, I manage to fall into a dreamless sleep and pass the night peacefully. Although I do not know it, the same cannot be said for other people.

A newly converted and conditioned Avox is shown to her new quarters while a number of other people are taken, for reasons unexplained to them, to a place where they are executed. Several Peacekeepers are transferred from their rather comfortable assignment and sent to an active area in the districts where insurrection and violence are not uncommon. Perhaps there they will be a little more observant. Some Game makers find themselves now following the orders of former subordinates for their lack of foresight and then there was the man who stood on his balcony looking out over the Capitol while he coughed up blood into a white handkerchief and thought about the girl from District Nine.

_‘Miss Peaston, I believe that you are going to cause us more trouble than you have. I do not think that we have heard the last from you.’_

President Coriolanus Snow dropped the blood stained cloth onto the balcony floor, turned and then walked back into the mansion while a waiting Avox hurried to retrieve the refuse.

The Games were not over, in fact they had only just begun.


	13. Thirteen

My eyes snap open at the sound of a cannon firing. For some reason, even though I am safe in my cave, I quickly run my hands down over my body and visually examine my limbs. Everything appears to be as it should, right down to the annoying small curl that always defied Mother’s attempts to get it to obey and frequently was in my eyes while I sat in school. I brush it aside before shoving it up under my headband.

I become aware of the sound of rain falling outside and this gives me inspiration. Throwing caution aside I hurry outside to allow the grit and dust from the collapse of the structure to be washed away. I quickly strip to the skin to wash days of perspiration and dust from me and do what I can to clean my hair, including that irritating curl.

Still naked, I do what I can to get my clothing cleaner than it is. Nothing short of an industrial strength washing will ever get them even close to brand new clean.

The feel of the water against my skin, even though it is cold, is wonderful and I really do not want to get dressed but need to be prepared to fight at all times. I am gathering my clothes when lightning flashes in the distance and I hear the cannon again. This time the noise was preceded by a scream which could only have come from a human throat.

Alarmed, I rush for my cave and dive into it an instant before a lightning strike assaults where I had been wrapping what I have around me. I cautiously peer outside into the deluge. The lightning strikes, while beautiful, do not appear natural. They appear far too regular in their pattern and I wonder if we tributes are being punished for some reason. I huddle within the shelter provided by my cave as I peer out. My other clothing is so close but I do not dare to venture outside to get it. I am forced to remain nearly nude for what seems like an eternity and all the while I hope that I have not displayed my naked body for all of Panem to see.

Finally the storm, if that was what it had been, moves on and I am able to rush out to gather my belongings. Another dash back into the cave and I am able to get dressed. I am completely drenched but at least I will not mind the cameras seeing me in this state. Being naked in front of an entire country is more than I want to be known and remembered for.

As I slowly drip dry by my fire I wonder which two tributes were killed by the lightning. Although fairly instant, dying by electrocution is not my idea of a pleasant way to end life. I have seen the unpleasant aftereffects of such a death, seeing a great deal until my horrified mother dragged my six year old self away from the scene. Nightmares that my mother had to deal with lasted for a long time after that incident.

Even though Mama had always admonished me to never with death upon anyone I find myself hoping that Stiletto and Jonnathan had been the victims. Stiletto’s skills with knives frighten me as she can strike a fair distance without warning or sound. During training I have watched her strike a target area no bigger than a large apple several times from a distance and at great speed. Jonnathan’s strength is also worrisome and I would prefer not to get into a close in struggle with him, it would not end well for me.

I chew a piece of rabbit as I think about this. Of all of the opposing tributes that remain Stiletto worries me the most. If she is still alive, and until I see her face in the sky I have to assume that she is, I need to be ready to strike at long range with the bow.

If we meet there will be no room for error, just as neither of us will give or receive quarter. Once the contest begins one of us is going to die with a sharply pointed object in our body. I need to strike, undetected if possible, if I see her first and to Hell with fairness. A person who is fair in this game dies quickly.

The rabbit bone vanishes into the fire and I swallow some water from my bottle to wash the meat down. Before I leave I will refill the bottle and purify the contents. Once that is done I need to secure my belongings and do what I can to make the cave simply a cave, and not much of one at that.

When my preparations are complete I slip out of the cave and carefully place the stones to look as natural as possible. At the same time I am careful to place them so that I will know if they have been disturbed.

I glance at the spot where the lightning struck and am stunned at the destruction that it has left. The tree that I had been getting wood from has been pulverized. Getting small pieces of wood for a fire will be easy now as they are scattered everywhere.

Ignoring this treasure is almost impossible but I know that I must go on the offensive. If either of my nemesis are still living, then I need to try to end their existence. I hate the thought of leaving camp with the intent of killing someone but I know that it must be done. I slip into the brush and set a course for the smoke which marks the location of the Cornucopia. This is her most likely base of operations and the place that I need to start my search from.

The thick brush makes wonderful cover although I remain aware that it could be the same for my opponents. It begins to thin out as I approach the clearing and I see the top of the Cornucopia.

My approach slows as I realize that very soon I could be engaged in a fight to the death. An arrow, already nocked in the bow, stands ready to be launched should I see a clear and viable target. There is no reason to waste an arrow by firing at a target that I know I cannot hit. I also do not want to waste time and arrows by firing at shadows. The only reason that I want to launch the projectile is if I see something that I can kill or severely disable.

Stones rustle in my pocket as they too wait for use. The sling may be needed if my target does not see me and I am too close for the bow. At closer range a stone is just as deadly as an arrow, not to mention just as silent.

I pause in my approach as I note movement near the campfire. There, sitting on a log in plain sight, is my target. She has her back to me as she plays with her knives. I watch as a horribly crippled rabbit is struck by a thrown blade and hear the heartrending squeal of the animal. All thoughts of compassion leave me. This girl needs to die if she is willing to torture a helpless animal.

My bow rises and the arrow flies just as I become aware of another person several meters to my left. The boy from Ten charges me as my arrow strikes my target in the center of her back. Stiletto screams as she takes the hit and then falls face first into the campfire.

Unprepared for this close in fight I whirl and race away from the scene with him in pursuit. This close to the Cornucopia I am back in somewhat familiar territory and make for denser brush to try to lose him.

“I am going to kill you, Nine,” I hear him snarl as he chases me into the tree line.

I stumble and almost fall, losing ground as I do and finally crash headlong into a familiar bush. Managing to roll onto my back I draw my knife and prepare for what is to come as he stands over me. My eyes widen as he draws a terrible curved blade from his belt AND I see the disturbed earth and branches near his feet.

A cannon is fired, I assume for the stricken Stiletto and he looks back over his shoulder at the sound before turning back to me with a twisted grin.

“Are you ready to die, Nine? You get to be the second person that I cut up with this sword. It is so satisfying to watch it cut through skin and flesh. I think that I am going to cut you wide open, you know spill your guts onto the ground, before I cut your head off. Then I think that I will put your head on a stake for the cameras to see. I might even make some sort of special spectacle of the occasion.”

He is standing over me now, one foot in front of the space where I need it to be and in easy striking distance.

“Please,” I whimper as he smirks at me, “I don't want to die.”

“Too bad, Nine,” he answers as he raises the weapon. “Get ready to be gutted like a fish while you’re alive and awake to feel it.”

He is preparing to eviscerate me when a noise behind him takes his attention from me. As his head turns to scan for the source of the noise I kick at his leg.

The boy turns back to me just as his foot vanishes down into the hole that I had dug the day of the bloodbath. His foot, with the weight of his body above it, plunges uncontrollably downward to be impaled on the sharpened spikes. He drops the sword as he screams and reaches down with both hands to pull his leg free of the trap.

The downward angled spikes tear into his leg as he jerks it upward and he can only fall backwards screaming in agony.

“Please,” he whimpers, “help me, Nine. Please help me, it hurts so bad.”

“Why do you think that I dug that trap, Ten. I put it there to deal with people like you,” I answer as I pick up his sword. His eyes widen as I regard first it and then him as he lies helpless before me. He might reach me before I can use this weapon, but it would cost him a great deal of pain in the process and possibly accelerate the blood loss from his injured leg.

“You were going to kill me with this a moment ago. In fact you said that you wanted to put my head on a stake, maybe after a special spectacle for the cameras, but I have to ask you if that is what I should do to you. Should I put your head on a stake after I slice you open with your own sword?”

A familiar screech comes to my ear and I look up to see the first of the birds appearing. I look at the sword again before backing away from him and tossing it to his side just out of reach. He might get to it but it will be with a great deal of pain.

More birds have appeared and are closing on us. He is too busy dealing with his leg to notice this threat but I have already planned my escape route.

“Do you mean that you are not going to kill me?” he asks as the smirk reappears. “When I get up I am going to track you down and cut you into bloody, quivering pieces while you scream for mercy.”

“Maybe,” I respond, “but until then I am leaving and you get to deal with them. I doubt that they will listen to your pleas for mercy anymore that you would have listened to mine.”

He turns his head, sees the birds that are preparing to attack and begins to scream as they pile onto him in a biting, tearing frenzy. I turn and hurry from the area as his agonized screams echo behind me. I skirt around the Cornucopia and make a course for my cave after retrieving the dying rabbit that Stiletto had been tormenting. The day has been bloody, three tributes dead and a fourth soon to be.

The boy that I left behind has no chance of survival and I hear the cannon fire just as I reach the rocks that hold my cave. No doubt the sound was for him as the birds are merciless. I gather pieces of wood and then slowly approach my cave. All appears as it should and I am soon feeding the fire within.

With the rabbit that I retrieved from Stiletto’s camp I am not forced to make do with the leftovers from my kill. This is a good thing, because none presented themselves as targets on the way to my refuge. I have a small amount of food left from was in the pack at the start of the Games. At least I will not go hungry tonight but need to continue the ever present search for nourishment.

My decision not to enter the Cornucopia was based on logic. Stiletto had been smart and would have trapped the camp. No desire to die in a trap set by a dead girl existed in me.

The mission that I had gone on today had gone almost flawlessly. Only the intervention of the boy from Ten had marred it, obviously he had been there with the same intentions as I and I had interrupted them. If he had not intervened I could have killed her with no one any the wiser. Now, with him dead as well some may guess that a formidable force is at work. Now they will be on their guard.

I leave the campfire to venture outside where I scan for activity

In the distance I can make out two of the larger Mutts fighting viciously, perhaps over the remains of a rabbit that had fallen prey to them. One of them finally triumphs and the loser is forced to slink away with nothing.

The campfire at the Cornucopia is not putting out as much smoke as it had been, this tells me that it is dying now that Stiletto is dead. Certainly someone will attempt to move into her empty space but I am sure that they will first have to deal with what surprises she left behind for them.

Smoke is still rising from the fire near the swamp but it is far enough away that I am not concerned about it. The tribute, or tributes, tending it will have the birds to contend with and they are welcome to them.

I think back to the birds that I had seen today. They had been very similar but not identical to the ones in the swamp. Their colors had been different, as though that had adapted to blend into their surroundings. This has me wondering if there are any that have adapted to the area around my cave. I shall need to be ready for any that appear.

My thoughts wander back to the strange meeting that I remember having but I do not remember who it was with. The memories are filled with mysterious stairs, places and corridors that I feel that I have encountered before but do not remember where.

Am I losing my mind? The corridors in my memories are similar to the ones that I saw under the arena prior to the starting of the Games. Have I begun to hallucinate and mix reality with imagination?

This is enough to make my head begin to hurt and I close my eyes against the suddenly painful glare of the sun. What is happening to me? Have I eaten or been exposed to something that is responsible for the “memories”?

I turn away from the sun and find myself facing the buildings when my eyes reopen. Somehow they seem significant and I wonder how. I remember exploring one of them and almost dying in its collapse. Other than that I can remember nothing noteworthy about them.

_Nothing noteworthy at all except for some footprints!_

There had been footprints that I had been following, but who had they belonged to? Had they belonged to the person that I can remember speaking to? This is going to drive me mad, trying to figure it all out.

As I look towards the buildings again I see movement and it is not the kind that I want to see. Three of the large Mutts are loping in the general direction of my camp and this has me thinking about the past and my options, which are few. Against one I had almost died and two had nearly ripped into my cave. Three of them will no doubt make entry and I shall have no chance at all of survival.

I have no choice, I remember killing one with a knife strike through one of their eyes. That may be my only chance to stop them from a distance. There is no other choice other than to wait until they are close but I need to try the bow against them.

My bow is quickly in my hand and I draw the first of my few precious arrows. They are all that I have and, unless I am able to retrieve a few of them the bow will soon be useless. I watch the approaching creatures as they draw closer to my position. That they are bound for my cave there is almost no doubt and I feel my heart begin to pound as I take aim at the closest of the group.

Still I hold my fire because they are still too far away for me to strike accurately. If they intend to pass my cave I do not want to attack them and draw them in. I wait, staying out of sight as best as I can, until there is no doubt at all that my cave is the intended destination and I know that I can hit them accurately.

I draw the bow string back and then, as I gently release the breath that I have been holding, release the arrow.

It flies straight and true and a few moments later the first Mutt is a rolling, screeching mass that soon falls silent. My arrow has found its mark and the Mutt begins its disintegration. The second Capitol construct shifts course as the remaining pair begin to divide to come at me from two directions.

I send the second arrow into its throat as it leaps upward and it staggers, attempts to run farther and then collapses to disintegrate.

The third Mutt changes course again, this time away from my camp. Obviously whoever sent them had not been prepared to lose them so easily. I watch as it vanishes into the far trees bound for the swamp.

When the danger is past I leave my camp and approach the remains of the Mutts. My arrows are easily located and retrieved and I scurry back to my rocks and the protection that they offer. I do not want to be found out in the open and my cave offers the security that I seek.

Later that evening I watch as the symbol of the Capitol appears followed by several faces. First of course is that of Stiletto, which ends District One’s hopes of a winner this year. Next is the girl from District Three, another career gone. The final two are both the boy and the girl from District Ten. That district had had a bad day and would receive two coffins on the next train. When the anthem ends I enter my refuge and soon am fast asleep. Tomorrow is a new day to survive. I know that things are going to get nasty with only five of us left.

Deep in the Capitol, although I do not know it, President Coriolanus Snow sits quietly at his desk as he stares at my image on his screen. He coughs momentarily and then dabs the blood away from his lips with a white handkerchief. He looks at it for a moment and then scowls as an aide approaches him.

“That girl is proving to be an increasingly large thorn in my side.”

The aide nods silently, afraid to speak for fear of saying the wrong thing. Snow rises from the desk to stalk out of the room, the door closing behind him with a sound that makes the aide shiver as though he had been touched by the cold hand of Death.

He stares at the image on the screen for a moment and then hurries out of the room. It would not do for President Snow to see the slight smile on the face of the aide as he gazed at the now odds on favorite to win this year’s Hunger Games. The doors close behind him not disturbing my sleep in the slightest.

President Coriolanus Snow would not sleep as peacefully.


	14. Fourteen

My morning begins with a bit of a fright as I wake to the sounds of a Mutt screeching nearby. The bow is quickly in my hand with an arrow loaded and ready to fire. Where ever the beast was it was not right outside my cave because it soon leaves the vicinity.

Cautiously, lest it be a trap, I move to the mouth of my cave and then peer out. There are no Mutts in sight although there is plain evidence that one has been in the area. Deep claw marks mar the formerly smooth ground in front of my front door. There are pitiful bloody remains of some creature still laying where the Mutt left them.

While I cannot be certain what sort of creature the remains belong to it had been rather large in life. The battle that the Mutt must have fought to bring it down had to have been titanic. Surely the Mutt had to have sustained injury itself in the fight because the carcass sports large claws.

With curiosity getting the better of me I move closer to the remains, leaving the safety of the cave behind but retaining the death grip that I hold on my bow. The Mutt, injured though it may be, could still be in the area as it seeks to guard its kill. Only the fact that I have never soon anything like this before draws me closer. The remains are both interesting as well as repulsive as a terrible odor permeates the air and makes it rather unpleasant to be near them. The odor actually reminds me of that which a skunk would produce. Surely this cannot be a form of that animal, or can it be? The Game makers have to have been working overtime to create everything that I have seen. This makes me wonder what I have not yet experienced. Are there other dangers in the form of living things that I have not yet encountered?

I turn my back on the pungent, nearly skeletal mass to scan the surrounding area. Here and there I see hints of movement too small to be Mutts. To me this means a possible meal and I burry to return to my cave to grab my pack.

Minutes later I cautiously emerge from my cave after making certain that I face no unpleasant surprises and, after blocking the entrance to my home, I set out on the hunt. The animals that I seek are obviously unused to being hunted for some actually allow me to get fairly close to them. Although they are close I want a clean kill that is close enough that I do not have to walk any real distance to retrieve it. The exposure of where I am worries me for, although I have not seen any of the large Mutts, I need to be ready to deal with an attack at all times.

As I hunt I try to keep my rock pile in an easy distance to reach. Right now, to the large Mutts and the other four remaining tributes, I am prey to be taken if caught off guard. I am under the belief that I possess the only bow in the Games but it will not help me at close quarters. In a very close in fight I possess only my knife to use and I don’t have much skill in that sort of combat.

Time drags by as rabbit after rabbit appears only to change course and then race away to a safe distance from me. It is rather warm and I feel myself sweating. This means consuming water from my bottle as well as possibly having to break off the hunt and return to base.

I have seen indications that the large Mutts are beginning to stir and this worries me. What if I get back to my cave to find that the Mutt has returned to its kill? Can I act quick enough to defend myself or will a Mutt have a scrawny fourteen year old girl to add to its meal? This is not a particularly attractive prospect and I shudder at it as I wonder if the creature would make certain that I was dead before dining.

The point that I set to end the hunt arrives and I turn to begin the trek back to my cave. I look at my home from a distance and realize that I have walked much farther than I had actually wanted to. While In pursuit of food that I had not managed to acquire I have gone an uncomfortable distance from safety. Until the distance back is covered safely I am at the mercy of any predator, human or Mutt, that I encounter.

A bright spot in this adventure comes when I spot the form of a rabbit which has taken refuge from both the heat and myself under a bush. My arrow strikes the creature neatly and it collapses after one last frantic leap. I approach it and soon my arrow has been retrieved while the rabbit hangs limply, already gutted, from my belt. With elevate spirits I continue my jaunt back to my cave and the campfire within.

As I walk I get the uneasy feeling of being watched by something other than the ever present cameras. There have been occasional hints of movement by something or someone who is trying to remain under cover. I cannot be certain who or what I face but I am certain that I am being stalked.

The distance is well within the range of my bow, but I do not wish to expend one of my arrows unless I need to. This decision made I wait until my opponent ducks back under cover to slip off my headband and then drop a stone into it. My weapon ready I prepare to launch a projectile at this hidden foe.

A snap of my wrist launches the stone as I get the indication that this phantom is breaking cover to see what I am doing. Seconds later I hear a bloodcurdling and somewhat familiar screech as the stone impacts its target. I prepare another stone as I slowly advance on what has been following me and I gasp at what I see when I get there.

A bird not unlike those in the swamp and the forest lays on the ground kicking feebly as it dies. While physically very much like those in the other areas of the arena, this one wears coloring to help it blend into my surroundings. This revelation spurs me to make for home with added speed. If these birds are like the others they will not hesitate to attack me. Against one I have a definite chance, even against a small group I should prevail but if I am attacked by a swarm like Saber or the boy from Ten I will have no chance at all. A cannon would be fired for certain to announce my grisly passing.

My quick gait turns into a jog as I see evidence that I am being pursued. Ahead of me I can see movement and I understand that they are trying to hem me in so that they can make an easy kill. This notion gives me inspiration and, as I get close to them, I break into a sudden sprint. Startled by this, and the stone which takes out one of their number, the birds ahead of me scatter amid loud screeching. 

I speed through the opening as I send a stone towards one that seems especially bold and tries to singly block my path. Moments later I am dashing past its corpse.

My chest is pounding and breathing is painful as I run but I know that I cannot stop. That would mean being overwhelmed and sure death. The only hope that I have is, having superior speed and long ranged attack capability, that I can make it to my cave and get inside before they can catch up to me. The casualties that I am inflicting help because with every dying bird a few break off their pursuit to cannibalize the remains.

The rocks are within easy reach finally and my weary legs are grateful for this. I stagger up the approach and to the opening to my refuge when I frantically pull aside stones. The birds are just arriving near the carcass of the creature as I dive inside before hurrying to close up the mouth of my home.

As I had hoped this was not necessary because the birds have stopped chasing me to enjoy the dead flesh of the Mutt’s kill. A sudden loud bellow announces the arrival of the kill’s owner. Loud screeches, squawks and screams sound as the battle rages outside my hole in the ground. Careful peeks outside through a space too small for a bird reveals numerous dead littering the ground, the remainder of the encroachers retreating and a very battered and bloody Mutt as it tries to crawl away from the scene.

I do not dare to leave my cave as the large Mutt is still dangerous. Added to that is the very real possibility that the birds might regroup and return to fight again. I have mixed feelings about the clearly impending death of the big creature. While it was a real danger to me and would have killed me if it had managed to catch me out of the cave, it was also an unintended guardian for me as it protected its kill. Once it is dead the birds will return to enjoy the free meal that the carcass, their own dead and the Mutt represent. I shall have to be on guard at all times lest they try to enter the cave to get at me.

I drink more water as pain creeps into me after the strenuous effort that I had made to get where I am. Too soon the bottle is drained and I am forced to leave my vigil to fill it from the pool in my cave. To allow myself time to deal with what I must I place a piece of firewood into the flames and wait until it begins to burn before shoving it into my watch hole. If the birds are like other creatures they will avoid the flames which will allow time for my meal to cook and me to regroup while waiting for food and my water to be pure enough to drink.

Outside I can hear the sounds of the birds beginning to return and I surmise that the large Mutt is dead or very close to it when I hear no challenge to the encroachment of the birds.

I know that some approach my cave, no doubt drawn by the smell of cooking rabbit, but recoil from the burning wood. A long sharpened stick acts as a crude spear as I skewer, or attempt to, any of the animals that I have a chance to.

Their losses, plus the fact that there is easier meat to obtain, soon have my cave ignored as they feast. I do not know how many there are but they must be numerous from the racket that they make.

As night begins to fall their sound diminishes and I cautiously peek out to see that the carcasses are only bones. They have been totally stripped of flesh and I can only assume that the Mutt is in the same condition.

The wood that I have placed into the hole to frighten off my pursuers is all but burned to ashes and I hurry to shove it outside before pushing a stone into the space. More stones are place to support it from behind making entry impossible for anything larger than a mouse.

While I wait for the anthem I eat some of the rabbit. I have not heard a cannon today so I can only believe that no one died today. Very soon I know that the Game makers will begin to remove resources to force confrontations. They do this every year to ensure violence between desperate tributes who are either starving or dying of thirst.

As if on cue the anthem starts and I rush to my barricade to peer out. Only the eagle appears, no faces to announce a death. The image of the symbol of the Capitol vanishes with the anthem and I move to my blanket to curl up in it and soon am sound asleep.

What should have been a reasonably peaceful night is anything but. My dreams assail me as they are totally chaotic.

In them I see myself being pursued by the birds and managing to keep a fair distance between my retreating tail and them. Then something hits my leg bringing blinding pain while slowing me down exponentially. A glance downward reveals an arrow impaling my leg. I have no time to wonder where it came from.

Sudden weight on my back forces me facedown onto the ground and I scream as chunks of flesh are viciously torn from my body. More and more of these beasts pile onto me and suddenly I lose the sight I one of my eyes. Blood running down over my nose and incredible pain, not to mention the fact that I can still kind of see what is going on, tells me that an eyeball has been torn from my face. I can see it being devoured by one of the birds as well as something else.

A rotting, nearly skeletal form wielding a bow stands before me. I gasp as I recognize the boy from District Three.

“Too bad, Nine,” the walking corpse croaks, “too bad that you are still alive while they are eating you. I should thank you though, I was already dead when they got to my body.”

“Not that I can say the same,” a second voice announces. I manage to focus on another figure and realize that the cadaverous form is that of Saber.

“They were busy tearing me apart before the alligator got to me. I imagine that now you know how I felt as they ripped the flesh from me. I guess that it will take longer for you, Nine, because there are no alligators here to finish you off.”

“You get to die like I did,” the third figure to enter my tortured vision remarks as a bird tears off the ear that he can get to. The ruined form of the boy from Ten kneels to look into my remaining eye. Both of his are missing as is his nose and most of the flesh from his face.

“Now you know how it felt when I died as they ate me. The pain from your little trap was bad enough but then you threw my sword out of mu reach and let them eat the flesh from my bones. It was like getting stabbed a thousand times but then you already know that. Get used to it, they are not merciful or quick while killing their prey.”

“You know that he is right, Nine,” I hear the voice of the boy from District Eleven add. My remaining eyes is suddenly gone, seized and I assume devoured. “These Mutts are very efficient at killing their prey. I know because the one that got me tore me to pieces quickly and you never came to help me.”

“How could I help you?” I answer. “You trapped me in my cave with that rockslide. I could not get out, much less help you.”

These are my final words before my tongue is ripped from my mouth and blood floods it from the wound. I can only make gurgling screams as they tear pieces and strips of meat from my remains.

“Too bad you had to kill me from behind, Nine,” I hear Stiletto’s voice and somehow can see the seared remains of her face, eyes gone as well as her nose and hair. Everything that had made her beautiful was now gone as teeth projected from a lipless mouth.

“I might have considered an alliance with you but you ended that idea with an arrow in my back. You killed me like any coward kills someone, from behind and giving them no chance to defend themselves. Do you realize how badly it hurt when I fell into that fire, knowing that I had no chance of getting out of it? Do you know how long it took for me to die? Did you even care about what you had done? Did you leave wherever you were hiding that morning with a plan to kill me?”

Even though her words are trying to tumble into unintelligible nonsense my dying brain manages to process them into understandable speech. The four of them burst into insane laughter as I feel my heart cease beating.

Then I hear another voice.

“Congratulations, Miss Peaston,” Coriolanus Snow crows, “you have become the latest tribute to die in these Hunger Games. I believe that we shall wait to retrieve your remains until they have stripped you to the bone. It does all of us good to know that you will feel every bite that they take out of you. Your heart may have stopped beating but you shall be forced to endure this pain until I decide that it has gone on long enough.”

My gurgling scream tries to break the air as the emaciated and horribly torn face of Snow appears in my vision. The corpse face before me opens its mouth to begin laughing at me while the ruined corpses of all who have ever died playing the Hunger Games join in the laughter as they surround me.

Screams peal forth from my throat as I sit up in my cave, somehow miraculously intact and without a trace of injury, eyes wide with terror at what I had experienced.

I finally manage to stop screaming and lay back to stare up at the ceiling. A glance at the rocks that make up my door tells me that it is morning and that there is work to be done. Reluctantly I rise, every muscle complaining to begin my day.

Far away, in the comfort of a room in the Presidential Mansion, President Snow watches me. He smiles at what he sees and then turns to an aide.

“I do not want her experiences last night to be over. See to it that she is revisited frequently because I want her broken.”

“I will see to it personally, President Snow.”

As the aide leaves the room, Snow takes a drink from his glass before turning back to his screen.

Then he smiles at what he sees.


	15. Fifteen

I peer outside to see only the bare bones that had been there the night before. With no sign of the birds I manage to steel my courage before clearing the doorway. That done, I seize my bow and quiver after loading my pack. The morning sun is not as warm as yesterday’s and I have hopes that I will not have and encounter like I had had yesterday.

I pass the bony remains on my way out after sealing the cave. A pile of earthy smelling dust marks the place where the large Mutt met its end and I bypass it as I make my way down the approach and then my course changes towards the buildings. Something in my dreams the night before gives the buildings significance and I want to know why they are so important.

While I make my trip I am careful to watch my surroundings. Movement here and there could be rabbits, birds or evidence of an ambush. The dreams of last night still have me hypervigilant and I know that I may be imagining things that are not there. Still I do not want to be caught unaware.

When I arrive at the structures I move quickly to the one that nearly killed me with its collapse. I peer into the ruined downstairs through a shattered window and see only wreckage. The entire place appears ready to cave in completely and I decide to ignore it and move on.

The next building is in more or less the same condition with the back wall completely collapsed and the rest of the structure leaning backwards perceptibly. This makes me certain that a moderate wind or a door closed too hard will bring it down and I want no part of this situation.

I am moving to the next structure when I sense movement. Darting for cover I watch as the front door of a building across the street goes closed and I catch a glimpse of hurried movement within.

Memories of a somewhat similar encounter run through my mind as I plan out my advance and assault. A stone drops into my readied sling and is sent hurtling towards the window in which I detected movement. The glass explodes into the room and I hear a shriek, not of pain but of surprise. IF it is a tribute why were they so shocked? They should be expecting an attack. Moving forward slowly I am almost halfway across the street when something hurtles out of a window and is only barely dodged. I give it a glance and realize that it is some sort of spear.

I load another stone and send it on its way towards the origin of the spear. The sound of impact echoes from the structure but I am too busy moving to listen for it. When I have my back against the wall of the structure I inch towards the first window and carefully climb through it.

Now I hear the sounds of anxious movement above me and have to duck as loose plaster falls from above. The entire ceiling is spider webbed with cracks and there are a number of places where the plaster has fallen so completely that it leaves the bottom of the floor exposed. Once again there is movement and more plaster, a much larger piece this time, falls.

The falling plaster tells me where my opponent is treading and I hurry to try to predetermine their course while loading an arrow into the bow. Sounds of creaking wood tells me that the floorboards are weak and, at this range, an arrow should have no trouble piercing them.

Clearly whoever this is knows that I have gotten into the building and they are attempting to discern my location. I carefully aim upward and then kick a piece of plaster against the wall nearest me. A sound of movement in that direction as well as dust sprinkling downward tells me that this is my best chance to strike. The arrow is suddenly launched, shoots upward and I hear a scream right before a loud thump and the sounds of something thrashing violently about. When the sounds fall silent I note a dark stain spreading out from the hole created by the arrow before a slow dripping of red fluid begins.

I move quickly for the door of the room that I occupy, keeping under cover as I do, and soon am upstairs outside the door to the room where I am certain that my opponent waits. It is ajar and I use the tip of my knife to push it open. When there is no attack I dart across the doorway to carefully peek inside.

A pool of crimson liquid is spreading across the floor and I can make out a form lying in the middle of the room. I carefully push open the door to see the body of a tribute more clearly. She moves weakly as I enter the space and I waste no time in kicking the spear next to her hand away.

Now I recognize her as the girl from District Twelve. As I look at her I see that my arrow passed upward through the underside of her mouth and then through her skull before leaving via the top of her head. There is no chance of surviving this strike, let alone recovering from it. Her eyes abruptly go blank as her chest ceases movement. A moment later I hear a cannon signaling her death.

Knowing that I have little time I search for supplies and find nothing. I grab her spear as well as the arrow and then leave the room. The door on the other side of the hall intrigues me and I carefully shove it open with the spear. A careful glance tells me that I have found her lair.

There is not much to be found, a small amount of food, a knife and a blanket like mine. She also had a water bottle but a sniff of it has me tossing it aside. The girl had been drinking rancid water and likely would have died before much longer anyway. I had simply spared her the agony that was soon to come.

I leave the room and go down the stairs to find another door, this one leading to two smaller rooms. A search of them yields nothing and I am about to leave the building when I remember something.

Once, when I was about ten, several school friends and I had been exploring the abandoned remains of an ancient house. I had been told by Mother to stay out of it because it was dangerous, but the adventuresome nature of my age urged me forward. We had been through the already stripped house when we discovered a door under the staircase. While the excursion down into the basement had brought nothing but sore backsides when our parents found out what we had done we had enjoyed the exploration.

Spurred on by this memory, I walk along the staircase and am delighted to find a door. It opens easily and I move down the stairs to find a large chamber that is lit by windows. I walk around the room and find nothing until I am about to leave when I notice something in the shadows.

A door that appears to be too new and well maintained to belong in an abandoned structure.

I remember doors like this in the Capitol and begin to search for a panel which will activate it. A large plank that leans against the wall offers no resistance as I move it to reveal the panel.

A dimly glowing button beckons my attention and I reach out to gently push it. The door swings open to reveal a short corridor with a door at the other end. I step into this space and jump when the door closes behind me. Recovering my wits I advance on the door to find that it slides open willingly to admit me into what looks like an elevator. This door slides quietly closed behind me before a voice speaks.

“Level please.”

Remember my rides in the Capitol on elevators I know what it wants.

“Take me to Level Two please.”

The sudden sensation of movement downward makes me gasp and seconds later the descent stops and the door slides open.

“Level Two, you may disembark.”

I leave the elevator and note that the door closes behind me as I begin to move along a corridor. This is obviously a storage, if not a breeding place for Mutts of all kinds as familiar, and chilling, vocalizations reach my ears. Each door that I pass seems to echo with the noises and I finally reach a turn in the corridor where I am forced to duck into shadows as two Peacekeepers walk by.

My heart seems like it is trying to beat its way out of my chest as I wait for them to move out of sight. A door near me is my only option and I open it before slipping through it and into the room beyond.

I pass into another corridor to find a door to my right. It opens easily into what looks very much like a hospital room. Gleaming instruments and computer terminals contrast with the stark white walls and floor. A large window on one side of the room looks out into what is obviously a larger space that is almost dark except for regularly spaced columns of dim azure light. A door in one corner of the room that I am in leads into this space but I am drawn to a window on the other side of the room.

This window looks into what can only be an operating room. Somewhere I have seen something like this before and I turn away when I notice blood smeared on the floor as if something had been dragged along it.

I rush away from the window and am quickly at the door into the other chamber. It opens easily and I step into the darkened room to approach one of the columns of light. Sudden movement in the room that I have just left makes me dive to the floor as I move farther into the room to avoid detection by the tech that I had just seen. He apparently quickly retrieves what he needed because he leaves as quickly as he had come and I am able to rise to my feet.

The column that is closest to me grabs my attention and I approach it slowly to look into this strange vessel. There is something within it that I cannot make out and I reach out to touch the glass that comprises it and am startled when the light brightens. I gaze at what is within the column for a second and then recoil in terror.

I have just looked into something that could only come from Hell.

Swiftly I back away from it only to bump into another column. It illuminates and I whirl to see another glimpse of something from sick and twisted minds.

I hurry back for the door, arrow at the ready, and rush through it just as a tech enters from the portal leading to the corridor. He tries to shout a warning but my arrow in his chest stops this and hurls him up onto a console, sending sparks flying. I pass the slumped body, pausing only to retrieve the arrow, before leaving the room and pelting down the corridor to the next door. The elevator is close and I need to get to it.

I race to the elevator door and it is opening when I hear a shout of discovery and then the deafening report of a Peacekeeper’s gun. This projectile misses me as I send an arrow at my opponent. He is slammed backwards by the direct hit to his faceplate but I do not wait to see if he falls. I slide into the elevator and wait as the door closes.

“Level please.”

“Level One,” I nearly shout in my panic.

Moments later I am in a familiar corridor and then in the basement of the structure. Wasting no time I clamber up the stairs and then race out of the building on a course for home.

I do not seem to notice the distance as I run and finally slow to a trot as the buildings diminish in the distance. Only when I reach my rocks do I stop to look back at where I have been. Of all of the horrors that I could have imagined in these Games, of all of the horrors that I have seen, nothing could have prepared me for what lay in that room.

The enormity and truth of it all overcomes me and I sink to my knees as I vomit uncontrollably.

Everything that we had ever been told about the Games was a lie. Nothing was ever in our favor, not even our lives. They are lies too.

Beneath the structure the entire complex was in chaos. Alarms screamed while lights flashed while Peacekeepers milled about as they searched for the intruder who had killed one of their number as well as a tech.

A senior tech sat in front of a monitor with sweat running down his face as the angered features of Coriolanus Snow appeared before him.

“Mister President, we have secured the complex and have search parties scouring every level looking for the person responsible for this incursion.”

“We both know who is responsible. I was told that the pair that was killed died from arrow wounds and there is only one bow in the Game! You are looking for Jessa Peaston and I want her found. Was she able to enter the main lab?”

“Yes, Mister President, she was. That is where she killed the tech.”

“And did she get into the storage area next to it?”

“Yes, Mister President, we believe that she did. Two of the storage towers were illuminated for viewing.”

“So she knows our secret and that is most unfortunate. I want her found and taken to your lab, then I want it made certain that she never speaks of what she has learned or anything ever again! I want her muted for the rest of her life!”

“It will be done, Mister President. But will that not affect the Games? She is very popular among the viewers. How will we explain her sudden absence?”

“We have enough unused footage to cover her absence and, once the procedure is finished she can be returned to the Games to finish them. We shall just have to be certain that she does not win. It would be impossible to explain her sudden inability to speak. Until her death on screen we will need to use views where the audience could not hear her.”

“I understand, Mister President.”

“I sincerely hope so or it will be your life ending on screen.”

“Sending Peacekeepers into the arena will affect the Games, Mister President.”

“They will just have to use some stealth, now will they not?”

“Yes, Mister President, they will.”

“Now see to it and inform me when it is done.”

“Yes, Mister President.”

The screen before him went blank and the tech hurried to issue Snow’s orders. He knew that, if things did not go as planned, there would be terrible punishment for all involved. He rose from his chair and then felt his breast pocket. Yes, it was still there, the pill which would rescue him from the torture that less fortunate individuals would face.”

He walked out of the office for what he knew would be the last time to make certain that Snow’s orders were being carried out. Then he would retire to his quarters, thankful that he had no family for the Capitol to punish.

I finally manage to pull rocks aside to enter my home and slide inside where I curl into a ball to sob uncontrollably. What I have seen changes the Games. Now I know that the Capitol, and Snow, will be forced to silence me. They will no doubt send Peacekeepers to retrieve me while the Game makers work overtime to make certain that I do not win. It would be a terrible embarrassment to the Capitol if I come out of this a winner, and the Capitol does not like to be embarrassed.

A thought comes to mind while I lay there. The Peacekeepers will come here to assault my cave, overpower me and then drag me back to the building. I decide at that moment to make it difficult for them. I may not have many sticks to sharpen, but I have plenty of bones.

Hurrying outside I begin digging small pits in the approach, pits that each receive a sharpened bone sticking up from the bottom and four bones angled downward on the sides. I cut the extra blanket into pieces before suspending the sections over the traps on thin sticks. Sand from my refuge covers the traps as I work at a feverish pace. This is the most likely approach and a teetering boulder above it gives me another idea. I wedge a bone under the edge of the mass and then use pieces of the blanket to produce a rope that I tie to the bone. The boulder is pushed further off of the vertical so that it rests precariously on the bone. A simple tug on my rope will send it crashing down on the approach. I move up onto the boulder which forms the roof of my cave to set up an area to fire from.

I have collected a decent supply of stones to use with my sling and these are carried up to wait for me to need them. My bow and quiver wait next to my cave entrance to be seized when the time is right.

This done I move down to dig more pits. Even without bones in them they will slow an attack. A foot that drops into one while either walking or running will slow down and possibly injure an unfortunate Peacekeeper. Hopefully it will also remove him from the fight.

While I do not wish to end more lives than necessary I know that I may be forced to finish off wounded, but still dangerous, Peacekeepers. If I can make the attack costly enough they will slow their approach and assault. Then there is something else that is not under my control that I hope will assist my efforts.

I walk up to my firing point where I station what I need for what I know is coming. The bow, arrows and the spear that I got when the girl from Twelve died join my arsenal as I prepare. A small fire burns below to light the scene.

So intent am I as I ready myself that I do not pay attention to the anthem, the Capitol Eagle or the face of the girl from Twelve in the sky.

With the sun going down I settle to wait, prepared to fight off Snow’s soldiers. If things go as planned, maybe the odds will finally be in my favor.


	16. Sixteen

The officer in charge of the detachment of Peacekeepers that was advancing on the mound of boulders that the girl was holed up in looked back at the nineteen soldiers that were following him. They showed up as ghostly given the night vision equipment that he wore.

Pleased with the authority that he had been given he had wasted no time in advising his charges that nothing but their best efforts would be accepted. There was no room for half-effort here. They had to bring in the girl or face terrible punishment.

President Snow was in no mood for further embarrassment where Jessa Peaston was concerned.

As they advanced closer he became aware that the trooper who had scouted ahead was returning. They were close to their objective and there was a problem. A fire was burning brightly in the encampment so their night vision equipment was going to be useless. They would need to remove the glasses or fight blind.

Damn the girl anyhow, she clearly knew that they would come for her. A night assault was best and it was too far to walk back now. Not that he wanted to return empty handed. The whipping post would make an acquaintance with him if he ordered a retreat for no reason.

“Sir, there appears to be only one approach. All of the other approaches are impassable.”

“Signs of traps? Defensive measures?”

“None that I could make out, sir.”

“Did you see the girl?”

“No, sir, not a sign.”

“Is her tracker active?”

“That is the problem, sir. Her tracker does not register on any of our equipment. Do you think that it is possible that she removed it somehow?”

“They are not supposed to be removable without undergoing surgery.”

The scout was unflappable, something was wrong here.

“Sir, we should be able to pick up its signal no matter where she is in the arena. Do you think that she has returned to the catacombs?”

The officer considered this notion for a moment before issuing his orders.

“We move forward. I want that entire area searched completely. The Game makers are making certain that the cameras are watching other things tonight. Once we get her back to the laboratories they can figure out what she did to the tracker.”

Peacekeepers, eager for the capture, hurried forward until they were against the huge boulders and then, at a signal, advanced.

They were coming, I could hear them as they crept in and I prepared to fight to defend myself. It was not long before I could see both moonlight and reflections of light from my fire glinting off of white armor. Soon they would reach the first of my defenses and then the contest would begin.

Several distinct forms appear in the darkness and I tighten my grip on the makeshift rope. Only a few more feet remained before I started to show them that I am ready for them.

The first trooper steps forward and then stumbles as his foot drops into a hole, followed by his leg up to his knee. Intense pain shoots up his leg as a piece of sharpened bone impales his foot. This pain intensifies as he drops his gun and reaches down to pull his leg upward and the bones in the side of the hole shred armor and flesh. He howls in pain and terror as he falls backward.

I see the first trap in action and watch as more Peacekeepers hurry forward to help their squad mate. This puts them where I need them and I give the rope a sharp and hard tug. There is a low crack and then the huge stone falls from its precarious perch and down into the already narrow path. Men scream as they are crushed by this enormous mass while others leap aside, some losing their weapons in their haste to survive.

My first stone is in my sling and sent on its way towards a Peacekeeper who is frantically trying to determine where I am. The projectile slams into his helmet and he collapses where he stands. Other Peacekeepers are trying to extricate their feet and legs from the pits that have engulfed them. Chaos in the area confuses and disorients men who had been certain of a quick capture of their quarry.

The officer desperately tries to determine where the girl is. He has already lost a number of Peacekeepers, some dead, others wounded and screaming and all totally confused. Some of the uninjured rally and press forward. At first it looks as though the rally will be successful until the lead man falls with an arrow in his chest. The advance falters as the next man, with nowhere to go and too many behind him to pull back, falls victim to the bottleneck. He too falls with an arrow in his chest as those behind him both try to retreat while others, not knowing what is going on ahead of them, try to push forward.

I watch as the latest Peacekeeper dies from an arrow to the chest before sending another into the back of the one that had been behind him. The man, seeing the Peacekeeper in front of him die, had turned to leave but could not get out of the way because of those behind him. I can only watch as they succeed in turning around to leave.

Then I hear it.

A desperate officer is trying to restore order to his command, but the odds are against him. Over half of them are either dead or wounded and those remaining are demoralized. What should have been an easy capture has turned into a bloodbath for them. Cries of pain echo from the scene of the fight.

As they work to regain control of confused and frightened men one loses his resolve, throws down his weapon and then runs off into the night. Orders for him to return go unheeded and the officer is about to fire in the direction that the coward had gone when screams of terror and pain tear suddenly through the darkness of the night.

I hear the screams and mixed in with them a number of inhuman screeches. The screams, mixed with pleas for help echo around the area until they abruptly go silent with a terrible finality.

This tells me that I need to return to my cave lest I end up screaming for help. I seize what is important and then scurry down, ignoring the pleas of the wounded, to barricade myself in safety. Soon enough those initial screams will be joined by others and I have no desire to add mine to them.

Confused, and frightened, men stare into the darkness as the screeches and squeaks multiply in number. The noises are soon joined by the sounds of many running feet. One of the men, already on edge, opens fire with his weapon into the darkness. He is joined by several others who can think of nothing better to do. Abruptly a man farther out from the rest vanishes as he is pulled down and then away by something.

“Mutts,” an older and wiser man mutters loud enough for a younger man to hear.

The panicked youth drops his weapon and runs for the approach that so many had died trying to take. He is almost there when his foot drops into a hole, his weight and forward momentum breaking his knee and actually reverses it. Bloodcurdling screams issue forth from the throat of a man who only minutes before had been a whole and battle capable trooper.

Man after man, wounded or sound, is soon being dragged down and screams fill the night. The birds have no trouble going up the approach and wounded men are soon dead or dying men.

The officer empties his weapon mowing down not only several Mutts, but also his senior non-com. Abruptly the birds assault him and he is pulled down by their weight. His own screams join those of his men as the powerful beaks and teeth of the birds find a way through his armor and into his belly. As the Mutts tear into his entrails and flesh, he lays there wondering what he had done that things could go so wrong. Then his eyes glaze, a moment before they are ripped out, and he wonders no more.

I sit in my cave as I listen to the diminishing screams. There will be nothing save bones, armor and equipment left in the morning. Perhaps, but not likely, the Capitol will decided to leave me alone and let me finish the Games.

The scene was not witnessed by me alone.

In the Capitol Coriolanus Snow watches with anger as his Peacekeepers are thoroughly defeated by a lone girl. Then the survivors are annihilated by some of the very Mutts that the Game makers had created to trouble the tributes. The girl had known that the sounds of the fighting and then the screams of the wounded would draw in the carnivorous birds. It was a terrible humiliation for both the Capitol and himself.

Thankfully the citizens had not seen the action, they had been being treated to some of the unused footage that had been dubbed in to make things look as though they were going normally.

Sending in more Peacekeepers was out of the question. Explaining the loss of twenty was going to be hard enough. There was no way to explain losing more. The losses would have to be explained away as transfers to another area. It had to be something believable because the Capitol’s populace would lose faith in him if they perceived that he was not being totally truthful. They might even consider replacing him and Coriolanus Snow would not even consider stepping down. No, he was quite content with the idea of being the President of Panem for the rest of his life.

“What shall I do with you, Miss Peaston?”

Coriolanus Snow rose from his chair and walked to the bedroom that he had chosen for the night. He had not visited this particular bedroom lately, but it was still kept just as clean as if he used it every night. The mansion staff saw to this as though their lives depended on it, which they did.

He slipped under the blankets while he thought about the girl. She was proving to be an irritant, twice she had breached the complex under the arena and now had discovered something that he had never wanted anyone other than himself and a few chosen techs to know. The knowledge that she possessed was both dangerous and damning for him should she ever reveal it.

“I may have made an error with you, Miss Peaston.”

Somehow she seemed to remember things that should have been erased from her mind. A certain senior technician would have to be dealt with for his lack of efficiency. The man had no family to help him meaning that he would have to bear the burden of failure all by himself.

Snow fell asleep thinking about the situation and what could be done about it. By morning he had parts of a plan in mind.

Sunlight filtering into my cave brings me awake and I hurry to my doorway to look out. Nothing living is in sight and I move a small stone to get a better view.

The bodies, armor and equipment of the Peacekeepers is gone. Apparently the Capitol, not wanting televised evidence that Peacekeepers had been to my cave, had fought and lost, had had a cleanup crew remove the remains. Only the toppled boulder remains and the bodies that had been trapped under it extricated.

The remains of a few of the birds still lay scattered about and I was fin with that. They would provide more bones for pits.

Slowly I remove stones until I can slip out of my cave. While I am ecstatic about the victory I am saddened by the loss of the arrows that stayed in the corpses.

While the birds, in their feeding frenzy, had yanked two arrows free of their meals I am left with fewer weapons for my use. I shall have to do all that I can to conserve what I have left.

Returning to the cave after retrieving the arrows, I fill my water bottle and place the needed drops into the water to make it safe. A piece of the rabbit is eaten as I prepare for the day.

I need to gather more firewood as well as repair my pit traps. Several had captured victims last night and need to be tended to. I also need to try to hunt as well as get back into the Games. The last thing that I need is for my sponsors to lose interest in me.

Smoke still rises from the campsite near the swamp although it is the type of smoke that usually comes from a dying fire. Is it coming from the fire that the girl from Twelve had tended? Or has the tribute that was tending it moved on. There is absolutely no smoke rising from the area where the Cornucopia is. Those remaining are becoming cautious, there are not many of us left and making yourself an obvious target is not wise.

This thought gives me an idea and I hurry to grab as much green wood from the tree as is possible. It is dumped onto the site of the fire from last night after I have stirred the embers back into flame. I load the wood onto the fire and watch it catch before turning my attention to the pit traps. It is not long before they are all repaired, my front door is blocked and I am back up in my firing nest. Any tribute that is on the prowl will not miss the volumes of smoke that is beginning to billow from the flames. I have been careful not to make the fire so large that it can be seen for what it is.

A trap!

While I wait, I also watch carefully for signs that I am getting a visit of a different sort. After their defeat last night I have no doubt that the Peacekeepers will return and I do not want to be caught unprepared.

Waiting during something like this is a long and drawn out game, and it seems like an eternity has passed before I see what I expect to. Movement too large to be a rabbit or a bird and too small to be one of the large Mutts catches my attention and I crouch down so as not to be seen. My preparations are obviously working and I slip an arrow into place while I wait for the inevitable.

I really hate what I am doing, luring the child of someone else in to be killed. Thoughts of Mother holding me and crying after I had nearly drowned come to my mind. She had soundly paddled my backside and yet still held me tightly while she and I cried and showered me with kisses of relief. Somehow I can see the parents of this tribute being nearly frantic and trying desperately, but futilely, to steer them away to safety with unheard pleas.

Then I remind myself that this person that I want to kill would have no problems if they got the chance to kill me.

Again I wait as the figure moves closer to my refuge. I cannot see them well enough to determine who this is. They disappear from my view, obviously circling the rock formation to see if there are any other entrances. This person, and rightfully so, is being cautious. They have guessed that this could be a trap, which it is, and are looking for any kind of advantage that they can get. I have walked the same route that they are and now that there is no other way in. They are committed to some course of action, either they move forward and try to stay under cover as long as is possible or they withdraw while staying under cover.

Finally I see movement at the edge of the boulder and understand that they have decided to advance. A thrown rock suddenly clatters against the stone near me and I know that it was meant to try to flush me out. I wait silently as my target moves closer to the edge of the boulder and briefly get a glimpse of a boot until it slides back. A face appears quickly as they chance a peek and I recognize the girl from Two, the last of the Careers.

She is inching forward when we are both startled by the sound of a cannon. Somewhere in the arena, the other two tributes have fought and someone has lost. My opponent loses concentration on what she is doing and presents me with a target. The arrow shoots forward before she can regain cover, although it was apparent that she understood that she had made a critical error before the arrow strikes her.

I have seen animals hit by arrows leap at the impact and she does the same before dropping and then laying horribly still. Slowly I leave cover and advance on the feebly, and no longer dangerous, girl. She senses my advance and turns her head to face me before speaking her final words.

“You killed me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shudders and then goes limp as a cannon is fired. I step forward to pull the arrow from her chest before examining her for anything useful. She has a knife and a crude bow and arrows. Not being able to get the one that I possess she had fashioned her own.

I move away to allow the recovery of her body and then think about what this means. There are only two tributes remaining, myself and an unknown. I have tried to keep track of the deaths and believe that the person that I face is either the girl from District Eight or the person that had volunteered to replace Geoff. Given what I had seen in training, and back in District Nine, I am hoping that I face the girl. Jonnathan is an enormous brute with incredible strength and close in or in hand to hand with him I am cold, dead meat. My only hope against him is a long range strike.

The remainder of the day is spent hunting, an activity that rewards me with a nice, fat rabbit. My kill is quickly gutted and its head removed before I walk back to my cave to cook the last meal that I will likely prepare before the end of the Games. I know that soon, probably tomorrow, the Games will end, one of the two of us will be dead and I wonder what lies ahead of me if I can succeed in killing my opponent and becoming the Victor.

What does Snow and the Capitol have waiting for me if this happens? Surely they cannot execute me in front of the masses, what explanation would they have for it? How would they justify my death to all that watched? Such an act might provoke unrest, even rebellion, or worse a refusal to provide any more tributes. Why send a child to the Games if there was no chance at all of him or her returning.

What grip would the Capitol hold on the districts then?

That night, while I enjoy rabbit, I watch as the eagle appears amid the blare of the anthem. I hold my breath after the face of the girl from District Two appears, and then release it with disappointment as it is followed by the face of the girl from District Eight.

I know the future now for, if my count is right, I face none other than the boy from my own district. I face Jonnathan Stinis.

Now I know that I need all of the odds in my favor or my Game and life will come to a horrible and likely extremely painful end.


	17. Seventeen

My evening is once again chaotic as I am visited by the dead girl from Two as well as the Peacekeepers that had died in my trap.

“You killed us, all of us,” the officer wails as he stares at me with eyes that have no balls in the empty sockets. His fleshless lips reveal teeth and gums but no tongue as the birds had ripped it out as well.

“All that we came to do was to retrieve you and take you back to the complex. We had no intention of killing you or even doing harm yet you yourself killed many of us and injured many others badly.”

I try to ignore this terrible countenance only to find it before me again when I attempt to turn away.

“Do you feel guilty at all for killing me without giving me a chance to fight back?” the girl from District Two adds as she stands next to the officer. “I would have at least given you a chance to defend yourself.”

“You are as evil as we were told that you were,” a skeletal Peacekeeper continues. “We were told that you killed unarmed and innocent people in the complex as well as a Peacekeeper who tried to detain you.”

“He fired his weapon at me before I shot him,” I counter.

“It, none of this, would not have been necessary if you had not entered the complex,” another Peacekeeper adds while favoring a horribly damaged leg and foot. “Do you see what suffering your traps caused? Excruciating pain was inflicted on their victims.”

“Excruciating pain would have been inflicted on me if you had taken me back to the complex,” I counter.

“You should not have entered the complex! You were warned by the gracious leader of a benevolent Capitol,” the officer retorts.

“Gracious? Benevolent? What is gracious or benevolent in anything that the Capitol or President Snow does? None of you would be dead if not for these Hunger Games because none of us would be here in this arena!”

“Still…,” the officer begins before I cut him off.

“What is gracious or benevolent about all of these years of ordering children to fight to the death for the amusement of others?”

They fall silent and somehow I struggle to wake up and finally succeed. I sit there, breathing heavily, as I run it all back through my head. Were these actually nightmares or were they some insidious product of the Capitol, like the Mutts, like what I had seen in the tubes? 

Something did not add up, someone in the Capitol had made a terrible error because something that I had seen could not be right.

The girl from District Two had appeared to me as a heavily damaged corpse, like the Peacekeepers, but she had not been attacked by the birds. She had died from a single arrow to the chest and had been removed by the Capitol before her body could be savaged.

In the lab a technician, newly promoted to command following the suicide of his predecessor, rise abruptly and hurries to a comm station. The face of President Coriolanus Snow appears abruptly after a few stabs at buttons.

“You have something to report?”

“Yes, Mister President, the girl seems to be determining that the dreams are manufactured. She is actively countering them. They are not as disturbing to her as they were previously.”

Snow sighs and then addresses the tech again. 

“Continue with your efforts, we must bring her to her knees.”

“Yes, Mister President, it will be done.”

Snow’s face vanishes and the tech begins to wonder I accepting the promotion was his wisest course of action. He returns to his console while he wonders what to do next.

After managing to put the dreams out of my mind I am able to sleep peacefully until morning. As I think about the dreams I begin to wonder more if I am not being haunted by constructs of the Capitol. These dreams, if that is what they are, leave the feeling that you get when you know that someone is lying to you.

I eat a quick breakfast of rabbit before gathering my pack, bow and quiver and climbing out through my front door. As I walk away I hear a sound behind me and turn to see a large boulder, one that I could never hope to shift, fall to seal the cave.

The message is clear, the Game makers have decided that it is time for the final showdown and that they no longer want be to have a safe haven. I had noticed that the large Mutts were no longer present, they would have appeared during the fight, and had a feeling that the birds were gone too. They wanted a fight between Jonnathan and I for the audience to enjoy.

I walk away from the approach being careful to avoid my traps. Of course, once this is over my cave will be reopened and the traps marked as points of interest to the tourists that will flock here to examine and enjoy. The fact that several of the bones are stained with blood will just make them more compelling to examine.

I just wonder how they will be explained as I am certain that that fight was not televised.

Jonnathan and I are meant to find each other for the fight to end this year’s Games and determine the Victor. If I want any chance at all I need to see him first and at a distance.

As the ground passes beneath my feet I wonder how my life will be should I win. Will I be allowed to relax and enjoy my days or will the Capitol and Snow have something more in mind for me?

Certainly they must do something because they do not want what I have learned to be revealed.

I slow my approach as I near an abandoned campsite, no smoke rises from where a campfire once burned and the ashes are cold. Nothing has been burned here in a while. I turn in a circle, my eyes scanning the area that I can see for evidence of my opponent. The Game makers have been busy because everything that had made life at least difficult has been seriously diminished.

A stream that once had held a trickle of water is now bone dry and the sparse fruit that had been at least conditionally chewable is now withered and on the ground. As I look around the suddenly barren landscape I note an area that still appears to be green and full of life.

“So that is where they want us to go,” I say to myself. “There is probably water there and that is where he will be.”

Grimly and with the purpose of ending his life so that I can go home I set out towards the place that I know that they want me to go. It is so strange that an area that is so obviously full of life has been picked for a life to end. No rabbits appear as I walk and now I am completely certain that the Game makers had decided that the time for the end is at hand.

Thoughts of home and Mother fill my mind as I walk towards whatever destiny awaits me. She would be urging me to use everything that I know to defeat this boy from our district, this boy who has so loudly claimed that he is going to destroy me. She would also urge me to never surrender, to give him a fight that would help me to survive. I think about all that she had ever told me about myself, about my spirit. In my head I can hear her telling me to use that spirit for all that it is worth.

I know that he has no ranged weapons unless he has fashioned them himself. As I near the glade I see evidence of recent occupation, a campfire that still smolders. Was this his fire or that of the girl from Eight? Whoever it had belonged to the site has been stripped, nothing usable remains.

I sense danger and tighten my hold on the bow and arrows. The feeling that I am being watched makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise and yet I see no one when I scan the tree line closely. He is here and I need to get him before he gets me.

A noise catches my attention and I whirl to fire, but no target presents itself. I am just turning back to the tree line when an apple sized rock soars towards me and strikes the tip of the bow as I fire instinctively.

The arrow, fired without aim, flies wildly into the trees and comes nowhere near the target that is now appearing at a run. Swiftly I draw another arrow and attempt to string it only to see that the bow is hopelessly broken, the damaged tip hanging from the string. I drop the useless bow and whirl to run. If I can get distance I can use my sling, distance is my friend.

He is screaming like a banshee as he chases me and I reach into my pocket for a stone as I pull my headband free. I make an abrupt turn and then launch the stone at him, turning and running again without waiting to see if it hit its mark.

Evidently it did, because I hear a sudden loud curse and then screamed threats about how he intends to kill me.

Another thrown rock grazes my injured arm and brings enormous pain in what I had thought was a completely healed limb.

I hear a victorious shout and know that he is closing on me. He has the stamina that I do not and I know that he is now too close for my sling.

“I plan on killing you slow, Jessa, with my bare hands like Geoff tried. I am going to wrap them around your throat and squeeze until you die. I might even break your neck to be sure that you die. You might as well stop running because I am going to catch you sooner or later!”

He is close enough now that I can hear his labored breathing. I feel fingers graze against my pack and release it to his grasp as I make an abrupt turn. Unprepared for this maneuver and confident of an easy kill he trips and tumbles head over heels down a slight slope. The large boy yells in alarm and then curses as he watches me vanish into the trees. It has become a deadly game of hide and seek.

“You cannot stay in there forever,” he shouts. “I have your pack and whatever is in it.”

From my hiding spot I watch in distress as he dumps my pack onto the ground and then seizes my water bottle. He opens it and drains it, drinking some of it and then dumping the remainder onto the ground, before casting the vessel aside. My Iodine flask is shattered against a rock as he howls his amusement.

He is so busy laughing at me that he fails to notice my launch of another stone. It strikes his left shoulder bringing another type of howl, one of pain. I waste no time in loading another and launching it at him before turning and vanishing into the trees. Another howl erupts from him and I know that my attack was successful. 

We have lost track of each other now, he has gone as silent as I have as we stalk each other. A single noise at the wrong time will mean death for one of us. I imagine the audience that must be closely glued to their screens as this duel is carried out.

I move quietly through the growth to keep ahead of him while also staying out of sight. 

“Come on, Jessa,” he suddenly shouts, “I promise that I will make it quick. It will be painful but I will make it quick, maybe.”

He is close, very close and I can hear twigs breaking under foot. Curses are muttered as he searches underbrush for me. I move away, actually passing close to him as I move to a point behind him. He is growing increasingly angry as he searches vainly for me. I can see the large branch that he carries, apparently to club me with if he catches me.

“Where are you?” he chants in a sing song voice. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

I load a stone that I have picked up off of the ground and then send it, not at him, but ahead of him. It clatters against branches and he hurries in that direction. I do my best to maintain my position behind him but lose sight of him as he rushes away.

Again I have no idea where he is and I inwardly curse sending that stone to lead him away. He could be anywhere, including sitting somewhere and watching me.

I duck down into the brush and wait quietly for some sign of his presence. My lips and throat are dry, more likely from nerves than actual thirst.

Every noise, every twitch of a branch or flip of a leaf becomes a sign of his approach. We have both entered a mode of stealth with each movement measured and thought out before being made. Our lives depend on being the one who sees the other first. All that I need is a clear head shot and I can end this. All that he needs is to get a chance to use that club and then to get his hands around my throat for my Game, and life, to be over. I creep slowly through the brush, conscious of each whisper of movement, of each leaf momentarily displaced before it springs back to where it should be.

He is no longer calling me to taunt. Both of use, he and I, are waiting for the other to make a critical mistake.

I suddenly sense movement off to my right and then hear a muffled sneeze followed by an almost inaudible curse. Yet I hold position, has he truly made an error or is he trying to draw me in?

My question is answered when I suddenly hear him crashing through the brush on a collision course with me. I duck under the swung club, foiling his plan to brain me. He loses his grip on it and it flies off into the underbrush. We roll over and over as we grapple with each other.

This is my worst case scenario for a fight.

He ends the tumble on top of me and drives his fist downward in a punch meant to break bones in my face. I jerk my head to the side and he narrowly misses me. My response to this attack is much more efficient and telling.

Once, when I was younger, I had been in a similar situation when I got into a fight with a boy at school. He as on top of me in almost the same position as he prepared to beat my face in. His superior size and weight would not permit me to dislodge him. So I did the only thing that I could do while I was in this situation.

I brought my knee up into his groin.

Just as in that instance and like the boy at school Jonnathan made a very strange noise as he rolled off of me. I started to rise to flee only to fall flat on my face as he grabbed me by the ankle. He rolls me onto my back as he climbs up to sit astride my midsection. His face is a mask of pain and fury and spittle drips from his lips as his eyes bore into mine.

“I’m going to kill you now, Jessa. I am going to strangle the life out of you and I am going to enjoy doing it.”

Knowledge that I was about to die filled my mind, just as it had with Geoff in the Training Center, but I had no time for thoughts. His hands come down to wrap around my throat and then he begins to squeeze to cut off my air.

Trying to scream does no good as no sound can escape and bright spots begin to flash in my vision. My feeble strikes at his arms and torso seem to amuse him and he laughs as my sight begins to dim. My arms and hands drop to my sides as he continues to strangle me.

Abruptly his grip lessens and I can breathe as he laughs at me.

“I am not ready for the fun to end just yet, Jessa.”

He held me down as I weakly struggled against him and somehow, through all of it, I became aware of my belt and what it held. As his hands come down around my throat for what I knew would be the final time before my death my hand grasps the hard object to draw it free of my belt.

“Time to die, Jessa.”

He begins to apply that hellish pressure once again and then suddenly makes that strange noise again before rolling off of me and grasping at his belly.

Free to breathe at last, I manage to roll over and then rise onto my knees over his midsection. Then, with no strength to do anything else, I fall forward across it body to drive the knife that I had shoved into his belly deeper into his vital organs.

Jonnathan gasps, blood spraying from his lips as I rise again to pull his dying hands away from the handle of the weapon. Blood is spreading outward from the opening that the blade has created and this spread increases as I drag the knife free.

Recognition of my intent registers in his eyes as I raise the knife in both hands over my head. He shakes his head weakly in a silent plea for mercy that I cannot and will not provide.

“Time to die,” I hiss as I bring the knife downward in a vicious arc into his chest.

His back arches as he gasps again and then he falls limp onto the soil that is already being soaked with his blood. 

Somewhere I dimly hear a cannon fire and then I hear Claudius Templesmith’s voice.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my pleasure to announce Jessa Peaston, winner of the Sixty-seventh Hunger Games!”

I do not hear all of this and what I do hear makes no sense as I fall forward into the dead leaves of the forest floor next to the body of the boy whose name I cannot remember. My eyes stare blankly at the approaching white boots and yet they too make no sense. There is the sting of a needle and then glorious darkness takes me.

Hours later, President Coriolanus Snow looks down at the naked body that lays on the table before him. The doctors have treated the injuries and are nursing the battered girl before him back from the very brink of death.

“Is the damage repairable?”

“Oh, yes, Mister President, the damage is repairable. We should have her back on her feet in a few days. Of course it will take weeks to make certain that we have handled all of the problems. We were able to determine that the injury to her arm by the Mutt attack was the reason for the failure of her tracker. It was apparently damaged and functioned for a short while, but an attack by a Mutt was something that the trackers were never designed to deal with.”

“I see, then she will be able to completely function again?”

“Yes, Mister President, she will.”

“And her memory of all of this…”

“Will be totally erased,” the doctor finishes. “Jessa Peaston will not remember anything about this place or what happened here. She will be a blank slate if you wish.”

“Good, see that it is done. I shall order the announcement made.”

“Will you be here for the remainder of the procedure?”

“I would not miss it.”

“I will see to the arrangements then.”

Coriolanus Snow watches as the doctor leaves before leaning down to caress the blonde hair of the body and then whisper into an ear.

“My dear Miss Peaston, I thought for certain that you would understand that the odds were never in your favor.”

He chuckles and then leaves the room.

A short time later screens all over Panem light with mandatory viewing. A very somber looking Caesar Flickerman appears and waits for the anthem to end before speaking.

“My dear audience,” he announces with none of his normal flamboyance, “it is my very sad duty to inform you that Jessa Peaston, the winner of this year’s Hunger Games, has succumbed to injuries received during the final duel. A befitting so valiant a warrior she will be entombed here in the Capitol where her adoring fans can pay tribute to her. Again, Jessa Peaston has died of her injuries. District Nine will still receive what is given to the district of a winner but obviously there will be no crowning ceremony.”

Screens go blank all across the country but President Coriolanus Snow is not watching. He stands in the darkened storage room in front of a clear column as the naked body is lowered into it and held upright by energy as liquid begins to flood the space around the slight form. A moment later the tube lights with an azure hue and he looks at that girl before speaking to her after the doctor and techs have left the room.

“Until the next time, Miss Peaston, until the next time.”

He walks away from the column laughing as he ignores the others which hold the remains of all tributes ever killed in the Games.

The door closes behind him and he speaks to the tech.

“Make certain that the replica body is even more convincing than those that we send to the districts. I would not want anyone to discover my collection of trophies or copies of my favorite clone.”

“I understand, Mister President.”

The tech shudders as the white haired man leaves the room but returns to his work.

As long as the body convinces the masses the odds will be ever in his favor. He glances at a group of columns, the very group that Jessa had discovered. In each column a perfect copy of the same person hung suspended. He reached down to press a button and give orders.

“Prepare the next copy for travel. Drop her in the exact time that you did the last one.”

“Understood, sir.”

As he watches, a column containing a body moves from its place to travel to a distant door, a door that Jessa had never seen.

Soon enough these Games would begin again for the private amusement of President Coriolanus Snow. There was much to pay in retribution and their leader meant to see to it that Jessa Peaston paid it all.

“Prepare subject for next Tumble in one hour.”

The tech smiles at this order and bent back to his instruments.

“Soon, Jessa Peaston, very soon.”


	18. Epilogue

Technicians watched as the still body moved slowly towards the alcove which would send her to her home in District Nine on the day of the Reaping. They had done all of this before and none gave it much of a thought.

Where most people in Panem were content to wait for the Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow was not a patient man. He demanded constant entertainment and, if he had to use the same tributes time after time to get it then he would. All that this required was the cloning of individuals for their inclusion into the mix.

Many had seen a number of Games, always held in the same general arena, but with a few changes. This also had the benefit of being a wonderful testing ground for the new Mutts that were always under development. There was no reason to wait for actual tributes to play the Games to test the Mutts, they were already battle tested by the time that they were needed.

Jessa Peaston was a special case, although none of them knew why. Somehow this ordinary girl from District Nine had gotten the attention of President Snow and was a constant contestant in these special Games.

There were no cheering crowds, no real Reaping Ceremonies, all of these things had been mapped out. The tributes were programmed and then sent into the arena to fight it out for the amusement of the elite and the training of new Gamemakers.

No one actually cared about the deaths that occurred because the bodies would be sent back to their tubes to wait for the next time that they had to play.

The senior tech watched as the body arrived at the alcove and then the countdown started anew. Soon she would be back in her hovel and ready to play again.

“Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One.”

The alcove lit in its strange way and then suddenly there was a loud bang, a shower of sparks and a scream of terror from the tech that sat at the affected console. The very console that the dead tech had landed on during Peaston’s incursion into the laboratory.

Smoke filled the room as technicians fought the flames that had erupted and he was beginning to be reassured that all was going to be as it should.

That is, until he heard a gasp of surprise and turned to see that the body was gone.

“What happened, where did she go?”

A subordinate tech looked at the console in front of him and then back up at his superior with a puzzled look on his face.

“I don’t know, sir. A Tumble took place but I have no idea where she was sent.”

“Find her and get her back!”

“We can’t, sir. The equipment that handled all of that has been damaged. There is no way of knowing when she was sent to.”

“What do you mean _“when”_ she was sent to?”

“We know _where_ she was sent,” the trembling tech responded, “but we have absolutely no idea _when_ she arrived there. The copy is lost somewhere between _now_ and _then_.”

The senior tech’s eyes widened at this news and he turned to depress a button with a trembling finger. The face of Coriolanus Snow appeared and scowled as the tech struggled to speak.

“Has the copy been sent to start the Games?”

“The copy has been sent, but we have a problem, Mister President.”

“A problem, what sort of problem.”

“Apparently when the copy of Jessa Peaston killed the tech here in the lab his body damaged a vital console. When the computer was activated to initiate the Tumble it malfunctioned.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Mister President, the Tumble occurred, the copy was sent to District Nine, but we have no idea when it arrived there. We have lost control of one of the copies and have no idea what will happen now.”

“Find her and destroy her if necessary.”

“Yes, Mister President, we will do our best to follow your orders but…”

“What?”

“Mister President, the odds may never be in our favor again.”

Coriolanus Snow slammed his hand down on the button to kill the connection before looking out through the window of the room.

As he looked out through the window, he failed to hear the door opening silently behind him.


End file.
